


One Link

by TheNobodyofaSOLDIER



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Death, Depression, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Parenthood, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Tragic Romance, Vent Writing, Yandere, personal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 16:11:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 38
Words: 33,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20745017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNobodyofaSOLDIER/pseuds/TheNobodyofaSOLDIER
Summary: A series of one-shots and scenarios dedicated to the series Psycho Pass!





	1. Ritual

[Ginoza x Clouded!Reader]

7:00 AM.

He wakes up, slamming the alarm clock and silencing the obnoxious beeping. He trudges to the bathroom as if the few hours of sleep didn’t even matter. He takes a minute to scrutinize the lilac crescents emphasizing the swollen redness of his eyes, the lines and cracks in his tightened lips. He peels away his outer layers and steps into the shower. He washes away the nightmares of the previous night. He washes away the troubles weighing down his mind. He makes sure every contour, nook and cranny are spotless, before he finally steps into the steamed atmosphere.

Before stepping out to face her.

7:30 AM.

She awakens from her sleep. He scans her psycho pass levels. Did her dreams shake her? Did she manage to sleep all through the night? Did she get enough? All these take a toll one her. Somedays, he’s lucky, and the scanner reads a lovely sky blue, one that gives him peace. Other days, it’s the dreaded clouded green, trembling at a breaking point.

First break in the ritual.

At times, he needs to inject her with her medication, one that levels everything out again, keeps her stable and calm. Other times, all she needs is a warm embrace, a shoulder on which she can cry her fears away. His face remains unchanged, but his heart twists and turns.

He hates to see her like this. He hates to see her suffer so.

But, he does anything just that she might have a fresh breath of air.

8:00 AM.

He prepares breakfast; coffee, eggs, sausage. Perhaps Chinese. Perhaps Italian. Breakfast varies from time to time based on her mood. But, coffee always comes first. She sits with him, always with a smile, weak or bright. It’s always there. She asks about his day ahead. She asks about his work. Though he cannot reveal all, he tells her what he can. It’s only fair to keep his own wife in the loop. She listens intently. She response to every word with a hum or a nod. Even when distressed, she makes every bit of effort to pay devoted attention to him.

Because he is her world, her life line.

8:30 AM

He leaves for work at the Public Safety Bureau but not without a kiss. She pulls him in, slow and gentle, a tiny reminder of what drives him on day in and day out.

9:00 AM

The day drags on, case or no case. Every second feels like an hour, an entire day. He thinks of her. He wonders if she fairs well alone. He hopes that she remembers her medicine, to eat, to exercise and sleep. Every few minutes, he checks his phone. He aches for a call or a text, any sign that she’s alright.

10:00 AM

He stands aside to call her. At times, she answers, her voice perky and happy. Others, she sounds exhausted as if every bit of life had been drained from her, but she still talks. Adorations adorns her voice no matter what state she’s in.

10:30 AM

The day continues on, case or no case. No matter who he converses with, be it investigator, client or criminal, he sends her a message.

Whether or not she replies depends on the morning.

11:00 AM - 12:00 PM

He slaves away, sometimes in his office, others out handling the scum of the earth. His phone remains close in his pocket. He waits for the small beep or vibration in response to his texts.

Whether or not she replies depends on the afternoon.

12:30 PM

He breaks for lunch. He stops at a restaurant. He whisks through a drive through. It’s all based on his mood. But, as soon as time allowed, he pulls out his phone and rings for her. She picks up, just completing her daily exercise routine. She’s tired. She’s out of breath, but she’s happy to hear his voice. As he requests, she reports her daily routine and documents how she feels. A little of the stress plaguing his heart eases away, enough for him to continue on.

1:00 PM - 2:00 PM

He interacts with coworkers and enforcers. He directs the cases. He takes charge. They all see the cold mask, showing little to no emotion.

But, his phone stays in his pocket. He pulls it out as much as he can, sending her messages, checking in on her.

But, it all depends on the day

3:00 PM - 6:00 PM

It’s too chaotic for him to contact her. He’s needed to keep everything in line, to keep everyone in check. Diligently, he manages his subordinates. He leads them as he believes it to be done.

He stays calm. He takes a breath.

But, he can’t help but pray for the best.

7:00 PM

He gazes into the keyhole, a wave of anxiety rushing over him like a cold shower. What will he see? Will she be smiling with dinner waiting for him? Will she be sleeping in front of the television? Or will she be thrashing on the floor, begging for someone to release her from her pain? All are plausible out comes. He knows it all.

Holding his breath, he steps inside.

He finds her there. No matter what condition she’s in, he gathers her in his arms, presses her tightly to his chest. She laughs. She weeps. She mourns. It all rests on how she currently feels, but either way, she relishes his warmth and his scent. She latches onto him as if letting go would kill her.

7:30 PM

He sits with her at dinner. He gives her the needed medication, and like any good wife would, she asks about his day. She listens closely. He tells her what he can, keeping her connected to his life on the outside world. In the middle of their meal, his fingers slide over to hers, lightly brushing against the skin there. Her touch soothes him just as his does her.

8:00 PM

They relax on the couch together, him with his book and her fixated with the television set. Sometimes, she switches it off, allowing him to read to her. She loves the sound of his voice. It eases her more than any drug in all the world. She rests her head in his lap, absorbing his warmth, feeling the rumbles from his voice.

It’s hard not to drift away into sleep, and she nearly does.

8:30 PM

He enfolds her again and carries her to their bedroom. Keeping her close, he unfastens her clothes, letting them fall from her shoulders, completely off her delicate frame. The pads of his fingers brush softly over her old scars, imprints of her days with the police, before he was forced to pull her out of Sibyl’s sight.

He knows of her official diagnosis.

He knows of her label.

But, he won’t let them take her from him, from the safety of his arms.

He leads her into the shower. He handles her as if every bone is made of glass and every vein is a thin thread. He washes away her nightmares. He washes away her troubles, her worries, her sorrow. He lets her lean against him, and she relinquishes herself to him.

9:00 PM

He guides her to the bed once more. His mouth engulfs hers, and his hands gently push her back into the cool, silken sheets. Gentle breaths, passionate kisses, he immerses her in his love by touch. As she quivers beneath him, his name rolls off her tongue like a mantra. As he touches and kisses every scar, every one of her most sensitive places, she begs for more, begs for him.

And she can only focus on him and him alone.

Every negative thought and emotion eases away for the both of them.

He can finally breathe.

They lose themselves in each other.

9:30 PM

All is calm and quiet, The hum of the fan encircles the darkened room. A sliver of light from the bathroom curves over the wrinkles of the bed. Cradling her softly, he tightens his arms around her, keeping her as close as he can. As she drifts away, he watches her chest slowly rise and fall. She seems so serene now. He savors these moments. Every instant of serenity she can find is worth more to him than all the money in the world.

It’s worth all the trouble. It’s worth all the strain.

It’s a ritual he would go through again and again for the rest of his life if it meant restoring his beloved to a state of inner peace.

He remains here, watching her slumber, until sleep finally dragged him down.

7:00 AM

He wakes up to the sound of his alarm.

And so it begins again.


	2. Questions and Answers

[Makishima x Reader]

“I have a question for you, Makishima.”

Limpid pools of gold flash over in your direction as his book is softly closed in his lap.

“Ask away.”

The swish of the fan above you brush away loose strands of hair tickling your face. You count each cycle: 1...2...3, much resembling the thoughts swirling in your mind.

“What do you think,” you pause a moment, allowing its gravitas of your thoughts press your mind. “it means to be human in this world?”

Silence, save for the whirring of the fan’s gears, the soft classic music filling the living space, and the crackling of the fire. The heels of his shoes click with the wood until his weight sink you further into the couch.

“We’re so surrounded by machines and technology,” you continue on. “Our humanity is supposedly measured by the powers that be, the machines they create. What we can and cannot do is so contained by so many rules. What does it even mean anymore?”

His breaths are slow and deep. A slender finger runs over the rims of lips perfectly shaped mouth. Your eyes turn to him, tracing over the contours of his pale face.

“I believe,” he begins slowly, as if gathering his thoughts together, meticulously putting together his sentences together. “Being human means being allowed to choose your own destiny. I believe it is being allowed to struggle and suffer, to practically drown yourself in your pain and learning how to fight.”

Your eyes return to flickering flames, the light sparkling in your eyes.

He smirks a bit at your ponderous state. “Being human means letting your mind and emotions run wild thus learning how to control them. It’s being passionate for something you believe in.”

Soft fingers take the lower half of your face and delicately turn you towards him. Your eyes widen just a hint.

“It means loving and wanting all the wrong things yet choosing to do the right,” he says, leaning in just a little and lowering his voice. “Or succumbing to desires better left unsaid, walking away with regrets and wisdom.”

You chuckle a bit, and it triggers him to join you. Then, he leans in even closer, his breath feathering your cheeks. Heat begins to rise within you, showing itself through your skin.

“It means giving your heart to someone else,” his voice is quiet and silky. The proximity of his lips leave your own literally tingling with anticipation. “To dance within that chaos of emotions known as love, a pas de deux of joy and suffering. And yet, it always reminds you of your humanity.”

Ah, what a tease he is, pulling away like that. But, his scorching, golden eyes hold you firmly in place. He has always caught your attention whether with his words or a silent yet intense stare such as this.

You are torn. It is unnatural to feel so much for a man like him, to think of him in such romantic yet lewd fashions.

But, on the other hand, you are only human, right?

“So, tell me what you think, my dear.”

After allowing his words to whirl through your active mind, a devilish smirk paints your lips. You tug at his sleeve and urge him close to you. To your surprise, his dark smile still remains.

“How about I show you rather than tell you?”


	3. Rendezvous

[Ginoza x Reader]

_Tick...Tick...Tick_

You watched the minute hand of your watch slowly creep by as it counted away the seconds. With each tick, the faster your heart fluttered in your chest. As the freezing wind blew through the cracked window, you shivered, wrapping your coat around you tighter. You didn’t particularly hate winter, but you would much rather be inside a warm, enclosed space rather than a broken down home, long abandoned.

But, if it meant meeting him, you would stand all night in five feet of snow, until every limb and nerve numbed.

You watched as your breaths materialize into white mists. The needle like air pricked and poked at your nose, cheeks and fingers until a shade of red was left behind. Images of the days gone by filtered through the surface: blood, corpses, flashing dominators, contorted faces of unsatisfied coworkers, higher ups reaming you and reaming you until you could barely stand. Although you took immense pride in your job as an investigator, the pressures involved in this job left you occasionally wondering if it was worth it, whether a damaged psycho pass, something that could demote you for the rest of your life, was worth keeping such a high and mighty title. 

And then, he showed up, your dark companion, your secret partner, your forbidden lover. 

Once an investigator such as yourself, Ginoza Nobuchika held a much higher position than you could hope for. He ran the MWPSB with pride and determination that you envied. He bore heavier burdens than you ever faced in your time. Despite witnessing the cruel death of one so close to him, he managed to push forward. Despite the goals and life he strived to achieve crumbling before his eyes, slipping through his fingers like sand, he survived. He carried on with his head held high.

You only dreamt of such strength.

Your heart soared at the sight of him, and for once, he pulled a small smile, a rare treat even you hardly witnesses. Joining him in the shadows, you immediately laced your arms around his neck, slid your fingers through his midnight locks, and took his mouth in a sultry kiss. His hands rested gingerly on your hips as he leaned in a little more, his tongue begging for entrance. You hummed in approval at the contact, pressing your chest against him, longing to be closer and engulfing yourself in his warmth. 

Not often did you two find the time to meet like this. He served as an enforcer under another coworker, and the freedoms of an enforcer were far more restricted. Just the simple act of leaving the facility to find each other broke too many rules for you to count. But, to say the least, you clicked far too well together; those long conversations you shared late into the night, his taking you under his wing when you first joined, the countless moments on the battlefield in which you and he put each other’s life on the line for the other’s sake. It mattered not what rank he was reduced to now. The System’s decision of your fate together was a speck to you both.

You needed one another. You depended on each other. 

It was worth bending a few meaningless rules. 

Holding his face, you lost yourself in those seas of emerald, dark and melancholy. Not enough words resided in your language to full reiterate the depth and emotion these eyes held, the pain he concealed behind these windows. To think he still bore such crushing loads on his shoulders, and did so with little to no complaints. It only fueled your love for him. He handled you so gently, a nice change in comparison to the daily activities you both were used to in the police. The pads of his frozen fingers brushed over the contours of your face, admiring your loveliness. He embraced you tenderly. He held you as if everything inside him depended on you. Sending shivers down your spine, his lips feathered down your neck, your collar, itching to venture into more thrilling and dangerous territory. Your breath hitched, and you clung to him, fighting against your buckling knees.

Only he had the power to make you feel this way. Only he knew how to touch and please you, leaving you begging for more, crying out for him.

And as you peeled away the barriers preventing you from fully drowning yourselves in one another, you knew well that you were both addicted, that you would never stop. 

You refused to let other designate your love for someone else. You would never let sets of rules and authorities decide who you would meet with.

You would continue these rendezvouses together, these secret meetings, until the system changed or until the day you died.

It didn’t matter as long as you could both be together.

Why take away something that did you both so much good?


	4. Last Song

[Ginoza x Reader]

“It’s snowing again,” Ginoza whispered, the words turning into white steam as he breathes.

It always seemed to when he visited here. It could be raining. The sky could be patched with clouds. The sun could be bathing its light in every corner of the city.

But, as soon as he started this path, his pathway to you, the clouds gathered together overhead, concealed the golden light and blanket the ground in silvery sheets. Flakes sprinkled in his ebony hair, weighed down his lashes. The crunches beneath his feet mixed and melded into the grooves of his shoes. He shoved his stinging hands into the woolen coat pockets, the plastic wrap protecting the flowers crackling beneath his arm.

Roses with petals as white as the snow. He feared you might consider such a gesture a bit on the corny side, but his father always spoke of olden days when flowers or chocolates were once considered appropriate gifts to one’s beloved. He sometimes believed himself to be better suited to those days, then perhaps the women he fell for wouldn’t be considered a latent criminal.

You were an enforcer, which was enough to be said. Just the dynamic alone was enough to deem your feelings for each other completely forbidden. He would do anything for you. You would do anything for him from bringing a cup of tea to his office during sluggish hours to jump in front of a bullet. Your touches, your clean scent, your calming voice, he was convinced that simply standing next to you without any kind of contact cleared away any fog from his hue. As time passed, he knew of the unhealthy attachment he grew towards you. Going through the rest of his life without you was impossible.

He chuckled a bit at his own foolishness. For one so rigid, so obedient to the system, he sure had a lot of nerve carrying on with someone considered less than human in this tight fisted society.

How it was even possible to even produce such a notion about you was beyond all reasoning. He never met anyone more human than you. Your laugh, your smiles, the tremors coursing through you when terrified, your tears, the way you clung to him in those dark, unseen corners, you weren’t afraid to show those emotions, those contaminants to your psycho pass. The longer he watched you,, the more he wondered what these so called therapies and medications were; to truly bring peace to humanity or to wipe out the very essence of being human in of itself?

Unfortunately, more evidence caused his rose tinted glass to shatter, and he finally leaned toward this latter notion.

It was all because of you.

“Oh, if only I...”  
His throat twisted and constricted until no sound could escape. Instead, he trudged along his path, away from the bustling city. His eyes remained glued to the dented snow. The closer he approached your dwelling place, the more his stomach clenched. His breaths shortened, releasing thin strands of white. No matter how many times he wandered here, it was like the first time all over again: the cold sweat, his loss of words, his quivering limbs. It had always been this way with you.

Even after all these years, his still was utterly smitten with you.

Finally, he glanced up. The foliage now cover in white finally came into view, the trees spreading across the horizon. Living in the city, he found these natural, untouched settings to be quite relaxing and refreshing. No surprise you loved it here so much.

A little smile tinted his lips.

Then, his eyes burned.

A cherry blossom tree came into view. Its buds had been crystalized into ice, their growth hindered by the storm. Yet, its form, still majestic and graceful, painted the sky with its elegant fingers. Your favorite place was right beneath those willowy arms, especially during spring.

Here, he would meet you.

With a slow sigh, he sauntered over to this sanctuary, right where the shadows of the branches gathered together at the center.

He could see you, smiling as brightly as ever, the wind catching your hair, the snow glittering like stars in the heavens.

The snowflakes that landed on his cheeks melted with his tears.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Sorry it’s been a while. Been caught up with work.”

Ah, just a turn from your head was enough to make his heart stop.

“You know, the therapist has been worried about me,” he continued. “Says my psycho pass has been too cloudy these passed few days,” a thin chuckle seeped between his lips. “If only he knew.”

Your laughter reminded him the tinkling of bells, something he never had the chance to hear in the city.

“But, I thought it was time. After all, you’re the only thing that keeps me going.”  
The tears continued to flow. With a loud gulp, he shakily placed the roses in front of the stone, the stone marking your resting place. Despite the tightening in his chest and the burning liquid escaping his eyes, he still smiled as his fingers grazed over the inscriptions: your name.

His sighs trembled, and the mist from his throat gathered together into whiteness. The snow camouflaged perfectly with the roses, only making them sparkle brighter.

“Ah, I figured you’d like these,” he said, forcing a smile. “You always appreciate those small gifts, don’t you?”

His facade finally diminished, and all he could do was curl before the monument. His cries peeled forth, echoing through the trees, further emphasizing his solitude. He didn’t care about his psycho pass nor his hue. He didn’t care whether or not he could be heard. He didn’t care about anything.

All he knew was that he wanted you back, not just these monochrome memories that temporarily eased this ache inside his heart. He wanted you. He needed you.

But, the only way he could hold you once again was finally taking his rest at the end of the day, venturing into his dreams.

After finally releasing those ravenous emotions, he pulled himself from the ground. The snow crusted his woolen sleeves. He dried his eyes with the back of his chapped hands. Taking a few deep breaths, he watched the snow pulled up around the roses now adorning your grave.

He smiled. “So pretty. I knew this would add a nice touch.”

As the wind rustled through the trees, he swore he could hear your soft giggle being carried with it.

And for once, he felt his heart untie one of its knots.

“Ah, love,” he said with a half whisper. “I’m so sorry I didn’t say this enough, but you,” a sob threatened to break free again but he managed to swallow it back down. “You were my world, and I miss you everyday.”

He closed his eyes and listened: the snow pattering the thick layers, the sound of his own breathing.

It was almost as if you were saying, through the quietness of the evening,

“I know, love. I know.”

Again, he felt himself able to breathe.

One more time, he traced his fingers over the carving of your name, the closest he would ever be able to reach you.

Until you reunited again in his dreams.

“I’ll always love you,” he muttered before closing his eyes.

And there, he could see you, grasping his hand, eyes full of the purest of love,

and a smile brighter than the snow.


	5. Tell Me....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~ Dedicated to those who suffer with obsessive-compulsive disorder
> 
> ~ Always remember there is hope. <3

[Makishima x OCD!Reader]

“Tell me what you see.”

Swallowing hard, she opens her eyes once more, escaping the chaos within:

A grey sky, painted with bubbling, silvery hues. Flecks of white scatter across its canvas, floating and gathering around them. They speckle her hair, her lashes, her clothes. They land ever so lightly on her skin like the faintest of butterfly kisses.

She glances at him. His hair blends in with the snow, and the flakes glitter against his skin. His eyes of gold shimmer with delight as he watches the storm increase.

It looks as though he belongs here.

“Grey clouds,” she whispers. “The snow practically dancing as it falls.”

“Hm,” he hums in approval. “Very good. Now, what do you hear?”

The rate of her heart quickens again. The exhausted neurons fire as it alerts the coming of another thought. Her breath hitches as she closes her eyes.

He knows from even the slightest twitch of her discomfort. Pale, slender fingers lace with her own, the other still clutching the leather binds of his book.

And he waits.

They wait for the little hurricane inside to blow over.

She winces slightly as her chest tightens, her limbs quiver.

And then she breathes, a trembling sigh. Once again, she reveals red, moistened orbs.

And he smiles, for he has witnessed the hardest feat known to man: facing one’s fears.

To distract her from the feelings now dwindling from her, he pulls her in tight, cradling her softly, allowing her head to nestle in the crook of his neck.

“Tell me what you hear,” he whispers against the shell of her ear.

She grunts a little as she settles herself perfectly in his arms like two puzzle pieces fitted together. She listens:

little pellets of ice clacking against the thick layers of snow, the wind rustling through the leaves, tiny icicles clicking as they snap, the occasional twitter of a winter bird.

She hears his deep breathing, inhale, exhale, slow and steady, and she is sure to imitate this motion.

“Sounds like there’s a bird singing,” she murmurs. “I hear the wind disturbing the trees and some ice falling.”

His fingers slide through the mess of damp hair. “Very good.”

“Makishima, when do we go back inside? I’m getting cold.”

A chuckle vibrates his chest as his hands rapidly rub the length of her arms. “Do not fret, my dear. Just a little longer.”

“Hm, alright.”

His cheek presses against the top of her head. “Now, tell me what you feel.”

But, she gives no reply save for a broken whimper. She trembles in his arms. Her eyes are squeezed together, jeweled tears streaming down her face. His heart sinks. Saying no more, he gently strokes her back.

“There, there,” he mutters. “It’ll pass.”

She knows it.

She knows all waves return to the ocean after stretching across shore.

And yet she cries.

He sighs, fatigue, sorrow melding together. He hates it when she falls down these dark paths. She cannot help it. One cannot always help the things the mind tries to hold on to, to conjure up.

Yet, she fights. She struggles for her independence without assistance of synthetics and medication.

Had she ventured out into the world, the city the way it has become, he has no doubt the Sibyl system would deem her worthy of latent criminal and lock her away in an asylum, confined, white washed, restrained.

And over what?

For what crime has she so committed worthy of such treatment?

She is human. She falters. She fails. She cries. She shouts. She laughs.

She longs for good. She despises evil. She fears the unknown, and she dreads the demons within her, tormenting her so.

Is that so wrong?

Is that something worth suppressing and draining away?

But, he loves her for this. He shields her from the rest of the world, from his own ghastly deeds in his war against the system. He listens to her woes. He shares in her joy. He holds her hand and helps her on her road to a recovery, one that will last much longer than anything drugs can give.

It is a battle.

But, it is one she is determined to win.

And he loves her for that.

In his eyes, she embodies humanity at its best.

And hopefully, she too can live freely and share her knowledge with those around her.

Until then, he is glad to lock her away in the safety of his fortress, the warmth of his arms.

Only there can she find peace.

At last, she breathes deeply. Her tears have dried, another hurricane has passed. Swallowing hard, she looks up at him.

And his heart warms at the sight of her tired smile.

“You’ve done well,” he says, brushing his lips against her forehead.

“I’m getting better,” she tells him. “I can’t believe how far I’ve come.”

Softly cupping her face, his thumb follows the line of her brow. Another kiss is placed beneath the purple skin beneath her eye, then her cheek, then her jaw.

“It a deed worthy of pride, my dear,” he informs her. “You will certainly reap the benefits of what you’ve done.”

She giggles a little at his touch, making his heart flutter with bliss. Every laugh, every smile, every twinkle in her eye is a reward to him, more than any material items money could purchase.

“I hope so,” she says, sighing deeply.

“Now, that you are calm again,” he tells his lips hovering over hers. “Tell me, dear, what is it that you feel.”

“What I feel,” she echoes, tracing her tongue over her chapped lips.

“Tell me.”

The heat rises to her cheeks as his pools of gold practically smolder her as they gaze. Hot breath prickles her frigid cheeks as he exhales slowly, surely. Her heart races only with the excitement she feels at the close proximity. Thoughts of pleasure race through her mind. The snow beneath her threatening to seep through her clothes mean nothing to her. The wind nipping at her skin is nonexistent to her. 

She only sees him, her snow angel, her guardian angel, her knight in shining armor.

And she only feels the unwavering adoration held towards this elusive being.

Instead of saying another word, she answers his request by closing the space between them. What begins as an awkward bump becomes slow and rhythmic, practically melting into one another. His fingers curl in her hair, and her hands fist against him.

For once, she feels hope, and that is something very few words can describe.


	6. Bite

[Vampire!Makishima x Reader] AU

A whisper.

Quiet whispers warm the shell of your ear,

as fingers lace with yours, a hand exploring the sensitive plains of your body, unexplored, pristine, untouched.

A quivering breath, limbs unstable, you expose your silken skin to the pearl fangs,

baring, aching.

You fuel him, this elusive creature of the night, with the river of life flowing within you. He gorges you with desires so sinful, so secret. You utter hushed words only spoken between lovers, confessing yourself to him, offering everything.

And you breathe.

Marks of carnal desire, mad, frenzied, paint your canvas, marks of possession. His lips, cold as death, scorch your soul with every kiss,

stealing away your every breath.

Bodies one, he partakes of your precious wine, drinking his fill, drinking until he becomes intoxicated with you,

until he drains you of every drop of energy you possess.

You sleep. You sleep trapped in the arms of him, your master, your nocturnal companion,

a smile smeared with blood, slowly grazed by his tongue.

You rest here until your heated and exhausted body rejuvenates from the charms of the night.

Until he would return to capture you again,

drinking his fill,

and drowning you in desire...


	7. Count On Me!

[Daddy!Ginoza x Mommy!Reader]

“Ginoza, can you turn off the light? I just got under the covers.”

Just as your husband sank into the bed, he turned to glare at you, but you sunk out of sight, snickering as you did so.

“Seriously? You’re that lazy?”

“Nah, I just got comfortable,” you muffled into the sheets. “Just this once, okay?”

He grunted as he rose back up. With a click, the light, resembling glowing fuzz as you peered through the blanket, diminished. At once, you poked your head back out.

“Aw, thanks, hun,” you said as he crawled to your side, finally protecting himself from the cold.

“Seriously, don’t mention it.”

You giggled a little as you closed your eyes and rested your cheek against his chest. After along day, taking care of your three children, it was an amazing reward to simple nestle in bed with your husband at your side, allowing the tension in your shoulders to whisk away. Although less life threatening than your job at the police, raising two girls and one son was no picnic. In fact, you were certain most of your colleagues would flinch at the notion of wrestling and debating with your Naomi, Rina and Yuuki for a day.

Yet, you never guessed Ginoza Nobuchika would be the one to take the job.

There again, Ginoza actually gaining the nerve to ask you out was a miracle in of itself.

You chuckled fondly at the memory of the tough, straight laced head investigator, casting his eyes to the floor, rocking back and forth every so slightly, constantly clearing his throat. It was impossible for you to say no.

To think that the same man lay here at your side, now your husband and the father to your three, little angels caused a breath to hitch in your throat.

Time flew by, yet you felt little to no different, save for a few more aches and pains.

With a slow sigh, you finally felt your mind fog with desirable sleep, and your mind filtered through the images of the day.

Until a rustle at your side, then a whimper, a knock at the door fuddle your cycle.

“Dear.”

You just grunted, squeezing your eyes together, causing in overwhelming sting. A cold hand touched your shoulder and lightly shook you. When you finally mustered the strength drag yourself out of your trance, you found a pair of green eyes, furrowed brows, lips pressed together.

“What’s wrong, Ginoza?”

He paused a moment. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply.

“It’s Yuuki again,” he said. “He’s knocking on the door, crying.”

The pang in your heart nearly took your breath away, aching down to the tips of your fingers. You were always aware that raising children would deliver its fair share of difficulties. You knew as they grew, they would face their own sets of challenges and problems.

But, the fact that your youngest, your only son, was shoved into the worst kind of war, one that posed ruin for him. Out of your three children, this delicate child struggled the most in sustaining a clear hue.

Nightmares plagued the child. Torturous thoughts circulated within his mind. He worried so much more than his sisters.

And at the tender age of 6? Was this the kind of world you lived in?

Much like his father, he preferred the company of his books and tablets rather than rough housing in the sunlight. You often debated with the notion of confiscating his tablets. The world of the net was no place for a child, and you wondered if this contributed to his chronic worry. But, you and Ginoza took special care to set up firewalls and blocks on literally everything you considered unsafe for the developing minds of your children. Perhaps it was the morning news? Perhaps he inherited this naturally form his father?

Either way, hours of care with a child therapist was inevitable, those horrid year-like hours of listening to the dark thoughts and pains of your son.

You would be rich if you were paid for every tear you shed for him.

If anything, by the pounding of your heart, your blood growing cold, the tightening of your throat, you were afraid.

“Not again,” you breathed.

Despite the hardness in his face, you could see the sadness lurking behind Ginoza’s pale eyes. He never revealed it through tears but by his hollow cheeks and darkening circles beneath his lids but you were certain his worry weighed him down even more than yourself. He experienced the suffering of a loved one being degraded for a cloudy psycho pass. Should Yuuki’s hue cloud too much, it could affect you, your daughters, himself.

According to the system, one person’s crime coefficient set the fate for the rest of the family.

Even if the suffered was a mere child...

With a sharp exhale, Ginoza rubbed his tired face as he rose from the bed. Upon cracking open the door, there stood the lad, fidgeting with the teddy bear in his grasp, green eyes swollen and red. His gaze shifted to the ground, intimidated by the intense stare of his father’s.

“Again,” Ginoza stated rather than asked.

“I-I’m sorry,” the boy whimpered, rubbing his face against the softness of his companion. “I just-”

“You know crying about your nightmares is just going to cloud your hue,” he pressed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index.

You groaned. You hated when he acted this way in front of his own children. He could not keep his curt behavior at the MWPSB. Though you grew accustomed to it, cringing became a reflex to that tone.

Yuuki gulped and nodded, still refusing to look up.

You feared the worst, which was sending the lad back to his bed.

But, to your surprise, he bent down to his level and gathered his frail form in his arms and brought him to your bed. Eyes still wide, you shifted over to make room for them both. Ginoza lifted the covers and allowed the lad to burrow under and curl at your side. He soon followed and turned him towards him.

Yuuki’s eyes locked with his father’s as he cupped his face in his hands.

“Daddy...?”

“Yuuki, where are your dreams?”

In contrast to before, his face was relaxed and his voice softened.

“In...my head?” he whispered, voice cracking.

“That’s right,” he carefully brushed the pad of his thumb over his cheek. “Which means...?”

Yuuki closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “They’re...not real.”

Ginoza leaned in close. “Say that again.”

The boy winced a little as a vision floated through the surface of his mind. “Th-They’re not real.”

“And that means?”

He squeezed his eyes together so hard, a little tear escaped the corner, wrinkling his forehead.

“Th-they can’t hurt me!” he declared, voice straining.

“Again.”

“They can’t hurt me!”

You turned away. You knew what Ginoza was doing was all in the best interest of the child, but it still hurt to see him suffer so. You clamped a hand over your mouth, preventing your own cries from escaping.

Yuuki curled closer to his father as he faced the demons plaguing his mind. His trembling voice repeated that mantra over and over again until the tension in his muscles finally released.

“They...can’t hurt me,” Yuuki whispered with one long breath.

Ginoza slid his fingers through his hair, feathering soft kisses on his brow. “That’s right. You’re here with your mom and your dad.”

He nodded and wrapped his arms around the strong shoulders of his beloved father, shoulders he could lean on.

After you regained your composure, you turned back. You heart warmed at the sight: Ginoza softly stroking Yuuki’s hair, eyes closed, both perfectly relaxed.

The aches and pains that came with this child’s struggle may have driven you and your husband both to your limits. It posed so much trial and error for one so small.

But, you were certain with Ginoza at your side, there was hope.  
“Daddy,” came Yuuki’s voice muffled into the front of his shirt.

“Hm?” he replied, nodding and fighting sleep long enough to hear his son.

“Will you be here...next time I have a nightmare?” and he yawned deeply.

For just a moment, a small smile touched his dry, peeling lips.

“You can count on me, son...”


	8. Love is Red

[Makishima x Reader] - LEMON

"I'm gonna make you writhe underneath me."

His tongue slowly lapped over your luscious skin.

"That's right. I'm going to make you mine."

His fingers explored every inch of your plump figure, soft and sweet.

"No holding back," his breath came hot and heavy against you...until...

he bit into you....

And then you died...

Because you were a tomato.

:D -Curb Your Enthusiasm Plays-


	9. False Impressions

[Daddy!Makishima x Mommy!Reader]

He always seemed cold to you.

Since the day you first met your husband, to your first outing together, to the day you married one another, to the birth of your first, second, third and even fourth child, he always held an aura that was both distant, cold, even lofty. You never doubted his liking and appreciation for you. He held you tight, whispered sweet, poetic things in your ears, caressed you, kissed you. He went about the proper acts that made a woman feel loved and cherished.

Perhaps it was the glassy, unearthly aura to his golden eyes. Perhaps was his never changing, placid and white face. He seemed to you like a marble statue, beautiful, perfect, every angle of his body perfectly chiseled, every line of his face sharp and clean, yet so forbidding, so proud and wise.

Perhaps even too far above you, his own wife.

It rattled your nerves at times. You never understood why such an ethereal being chose you, you of all people. Once, you lived in hiding, a latent criminal, labeled, wanted, and all for what? For desiring to live in a world away from synthetic hormones and drugs used to change the body’s chemistry? For rejecting a cold and terrifying asylum and deciding to fight your own stress? For attempting to share this knowledge with other suffering just as you had? From the very beginning, you doubted the System’s management of people’s mental health, as it incarcerated those who were different,the anxious, the depressed, the artistic, for the crime of expressing their natural, human emotions.

In hiding, that was when you encountered the elusive, mad genius Shogo Makishima. He quoted works you believed to be long forgotten. He uttered ideas that you shared, thoughts about the system you believed only you dwelled on.

To find a human with his characteristics was like finding a pearl in an oyster. He was one of those rare masterminds that finally made sense of this mad world to you.

You felt connected to him in some unspoken way, yet unable to comprehend the thoughts that circulated through his mind.

A tight knot gathered in the pit of your stomach, and your heart pounded cold blood through your contracting veins the longer you dwelled on the matter.

Even standing here promised to him for life with the patter of little feet resounding through the loft, butterflies filled your stomach. Tears teased the corners of your eyes.

But, as your children clutched to your leg, giggled and laughed at play, flipped the pages of their book, you forced a smile. You composed a mask of flesh and blood to hide the obscure, unsettled feelings wavering about inside of you.  
You longed so much to hide away and cry away your insecurities.

But, what good would it do?

It was just another enigma you stored away with this myriad of secrets within this family.

As you settled your three eldest children to breakfast, as they quietly nibbled away, eyes fixated on their studies, you exhaled sharply, attempting to exterminate the rotten feelings within you. You stood, paced, gazed through the slit between the curtains. Bits of sunlight peaked through the clouds, aching your tired eyes. A bird fluttered through a light breeze and nestled in the willow branches of nearby trees. Colorful buds adorning the fresh greenery shyly unfolded, revealing their garments to the world. A gust blew away excess leaves, hanging by a mere thread. But, even the cheerful scenery brought you no piece, no joy.

All you noticed was a bitter taste from old coffee.

The fluttering in your heart still linger. You stomach only tightened more.

Defeated, you shuffled passed the kids at their play, allowing them to enjoy their time, ignorant of your distress. You hoped maybe a hot bath or another cup of your favorite hot beverage would soothe your soul even the slightest.

But, as you crossed the threshold of your bedroom, you halted in your tracks. The sight before you immediately redirected your anxious thoughts, and your heart tingled with delight. The delicate cries of your infant daughter peeled throughout the room as she so desperately fought with sleep. Your husband paced the room, soothing her with his low, dulcet voice. His usually cold and distant eyes became soft pools of warm gold. His hand traversed up and down her frail, little back, easing her to sleep. A thin, delicate smile rested on his lips.

You never thought you would ever witness him in this state, so calm, so sweet, so human. When you thought of Makishima, words such as supernatural or ethereal came to mind.

And for the first time, you saw flesh and blood, a man you could reach out and touch, hold and kiss.

It was all just a false impression he was giving off.

Once the little bundle drifted away into a peaceful sleep, he delicately placed her in her crib. Stirring just slightly, she breathed deeply and nestled in the warmth of her blankets. His eyes shifted over to you, smile fading ever so slightly. Your heart leapt in your throat.

“Sorry,” you muttered. “Just checking to see if everything was alright.”

With a slight nod, he made his way over to you, his steps lighter than air. But, his gaze never left yours. Butterflies fluttered in the pit of your stomach, and your nerves tightened.

“Ah, the kids have been fed,” you whispered. Trembling fingers slid through your hair as you swayed. “They should be good for a while.”

“Well done, darling,” he replied, gently taking your shoulders.

Was this the same person? His expression so gentle, his eyes so warm, the heat radiating from his skin, despite all these years with him, this was the first time you felt him at your side instead of lost in his lofty thoughts and ideas.

Before you spoke again, he took your chin and lightly brushed his lips over yours, so delicate, lighter than the touch of a butterfly’s wings.

Yet, it was enough to make everything inside you melt away. Nothing but the attachment and love you felt towards him since the very beginning remained.

And you latched your arms around him, listening to the beat of his heart, inhaling in his clean scent, all those false impressions you once concocted of him washed away.

He was here with you now.

What more could you possibly need?


	10. Sunrise Comes Too Soon

[Ginoza x Reader]

As the sun graced the waking city with its cheerful face, fingers of golden light reached into each home, alerting sleeping souls of the coming morn. Streets remained quiet. Street lamps flickered off. Residents rubbed the drowsy clouds from their eyes. They stretched their limbs, removing the gravity of sleep, and proceeded with preparations for the day.

But, as the light penetrated the window of a small complex within the depths of the CID floor, a thick velvet curtain concealed the entrance to the window. A soft moan, slight stirring between the sheets, and everything returned to silence. Ginoza rolled back on his side and faced the mess of hair pooling on the pillow next him. Strands of your hair dangled in your face, draped over your shoulder, the curve of your neck. He watched your bare chest rise and fall, slowly, rhythmically, signaling that you still dwelled within the realms of slumber.

He smiled a bit. As if touching the petals of the flower, the tips of his fingers moved aside those loose bits of hair, smoothing it carefully down your back. Your breath hitched. He froze. Then, you returned to your peaceful state, comfortable, breathing slowly. With a smile, he leaned in slowly, feathering kisses along your cheeks. You simply hummed, but the delicate strands of your lashes caressed his skin, just enough for him to catch his breath.

Ah, even with tussled hair and lilac crescents beneath your eyes, you always appeared so perfect in his eyes. Cupping your face with his prosthetic hand, you winced a little at the frigid metal, only for a moment. Then, your own fingers os flesh and blood melded with his, your thumb dragging over the bumps and grooves of the machinery.

Misfits were you, rejected by the members of society. You both had seen more bloodshed than the average citizens. You lost beloved ones. Your bodies endured more pain than needed to sustain a healthy hue.

According to the Sibyl system anyway...

He was reduced to the ranking of an enforcer, inspector to a mere watchdog, made to take a bullet for their masters. You were forced into therapy. The system deemed your psycho pass far too cloudy for a normal, functioning human being. Trapped in a cage of white walls, the constant stench of disinfectant and fluorescent lights, the only incentive keeping you going, keeping you hanging on to the last strand of hope, was seeing him again, seeing those pale, green eyes glimmer in the sunlight, his ebony hair reflecting the starlight.

He and his inspector were the first to greet you upon your release. Your reputation ruined, your hopes of any future better than what now lay before you squandered, none of it mattered anymore as soon as you spotted his face. Expressionless, calm, his eyes still held nothing but gentle affection towards you.

It just made the wait all worth it.

Once you returned to the CID, you settled in your new home at the highest level, the sanctuary for all enforcers, a place where they could be themselves without the judgement of the outside world.

When the veil of night fell over the city and the half moon adorned the city with its ominous light, he coaxed you into his bedroom. You came with no resistance. Passionate kisses were shared. Soft whispers made only between lovers were uttered against the heated skin of your ear. Limbs entangled in winding sheets. Gasps and cries formed your names as you expressed your carnal want for each other.

It was between you and him, no one to answer for your actions but yourselves.

In between silky kisses over your mouth, he hummed with contentment. You lightly tugged at his locks, urging him a little closer, inhaling his musky scent. He gently nipped your top lip before pulling away in need for air. He smiled a bit. The tip of his finger grazed over the distorted, wrinkled skin of your scars scattered over the plains of your face: marks of battles you fought and survived. How many times had he kissed those scars he lost count of completely. But, they were a part of who you were, who you became, and he loved every single imperfection.

As the intrusive sunlight peaked through the curtains, you grunted and turned away.

“It’s too early,” you mumbled under your breath.

He simply agreed with a curt sigh. He pressed his chest into your back and pulled you a little closer.

“We’ll have to report to the inspectors soon,” he said, resting his cheek in the softness of your hair.

“I know,” you replied. “Five more minutes then?”

He chuckled quietly. “Oh, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

You giggled in delight, nestling into his embrace and burying your face in the covers.

And as he breathed in your scent, drowned himself in your warmth, sleep soon enveloped him in its arms once again.

The sunrise always came too soon on nights like these.

But, at least you had the coming evening to look forward to.


	11. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be on the hunt for some Easter eggs. ;)

[Daddy!Kagari x Mommy!Reader]

“Daaaaaaaaaaaddy.”

“Hold on just a second, sweetie!”

“Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaddy!”

Kargari’s eyes sparkled with delight as he pivoted to find four fresh, rosy faces, peering at him above the counter.

“Is breakfast almost ready?” piped a little boy, aged seven and hair of fire, rapping his fingers against the granite.

“Hush, now Hikaru,” the dedicated chef narrowed his eyes at his creation. “Real cooking takes time and effort to get just right!”

“Why can’t we have the instant meals?” Kaoru complained.

With a rather exaggerated yawn, you hobbled your way into the bustling kitchen, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. The aroma of your husband’s fresh bacon and omelets however snapped you rather quickly to your senses. Kagari never resorted to those cheap, instant meals often used in this society. If he was going to serve his family a meal, it was always prepared by his own two hands, unless of course, the chaos of the day prevented that. Growing up deprived and never receiving the chance to enjoy these little gems life offered, he told you, since the day you two solidified your engagement, that his children would be downright spoiled if he had his way.

You always smiled at the thought, considering that he made that promise so shit-faced drunk, he could barely talk the next day without the urge to run to the bathroom. But, you had to admit, he certainly held up his end of the deal. You were almost positive no one in this world loved their children the way Kagari loved your devilish sons and precious daughters.

You brushed by him, reaching for the fresh coffee waiting for you. With a smirk, he pinched your hip as you passed. Before you retort, a rather audible “ewww” resounded from the table. With two snickers, you decided it would be best to save it for later.

“So, what do we have here?” you inquired, throwing in your cream and sugar accordingly.

“Biscuits, bacon and omelets!” little Noriko chirped as she crammed a mouthful of bread in her mouth.

“Don’t put too much food in your mouth!” Aiko, her sister snapped. “That looks gross!”

But, not once did she head her word and continued devouring the delicious meal. Your twins bickered over the last piece of bacon, before Daddy came to the rescue with more in hand.  
You watched him unable to conceal the grin on your face. Kagari’s amber eyes sparkled with delight. His hair was pinned away from his face with Aiko’s pink barrettes, and his grin was so sunny, you were certain his expression alone lit the entirety of the room. You recalled that first instance he eyed you, an inspector and an enforcer. With a wink and a snappy “hey, there,” he had you on his hook immediately. Of course, you never let him know. It was a classic game of playing hard to get, but deep down, he always knew you wanted him. But, due to the strict regulations of the Sibyl system, your relationship would have been worthy of severe punishment.

But, too strong was his pull. You wanted him. He wanted you. You loved him. He loved you. Those reasons alone stood stronger than any taboo or rules.

So, you kept your relationship in secret, allowing it to blossom and flourish.

To think that this many years passed, and now here you were, living on the outskirts of the city, away from scanners, away from people, married with four beautiful children.

Back then, that notion seemed impossible.

“Hello in there!” a tap came to your forehead.

“H-Huh?”

Kagari smirked. “Going off in lala land like that isn’t good for you when there’s a delicious breakfast to be served!”

Sure enough, a beautiful aroma of mixed scents, pepper, bacon, fresh bread, invaded and dominated every one of your senses. Immediately, your ravenous stomach growled for this edible treasure.

“Oh, but of course!”

“Yeah! You gotta try it!” the ginger twins piped in unison.

“Do you want your biscuits, Mommy?” Noriko inquired with hungry eyes.

“Hey, you already had four!” Aiko hissed.

“Don’t worry, my beautiful princesses!” Kagari cheered. “There are plenty more!”

And there was much rejoicing.

You snickered.

That one bite, the tapestry of flavors coating your taste buds, was richer, far better than anything you ever tasted in your life. Maybe because your husband had quite the talent in cooking. Maybe because it was he that created this dish.

Or perhaps for the simple fact alone that your happiness skyrocketed higher than the clouds itself.

For that alone made this simple breakfast far greater, far more precious than perceived by the outside world.


	12. Empty Streets

[Ginoza x Reader]

Three in the morning, and you still lay in your bed, still counting the seconds pass by, still counting the cycles of the fan above you. The air conditioner hummed. A whoosh from a car hurrying home resounded by your apartment. The pitter patter of a brewing rainstorm batted your window.

Worst of all, your mind refused to settled. Events from the day filtered through your mind. Fantasies and random thoughts muddled together into one noisy mess that ignited the energy you so despised right now.

You refused to take it anymore. Throwing off your covers and stretching your stiff limbs, you snatched your jacket and pulled on some boots. Umbrella and keys and hand, you hustled down the stairs of the building until you greeted with the biting air of the autumn wind.

Street lamps flickered, allowing the shadows of statues and buildings to engage in their mysterious dance. The city felt unusually clean this time of night with the mist washing away airborne filth and the streets still and quiet. A quiet wind moaned as it trudged through the spaces and reverberated off the glassy walls. Shielding your messy bun from the abuse of the moisture, you slowly strolled along the empty streets.

Bit by bit, the chaos in your mind broke into little pieces and floated away.

The city took on an entirely different look in this state, almost abandoned like a ghost town. A monochrome shade painted the atmosphere. Each cafe and boutique you passed held the whispers of passed customers. The windows concealed shadows of people busily shopping for themselves or another. In a few short hours, those hollows would be filled with real identities, with people going about their lives, absorbed in their own little worlds.

For now, you took appreciation in these black and white, ghostly figures you imagined.

As you approached the corner of the street, gazing at the droplets illuminating in the light, you perceived the echo of clacking boots against the pavement.

You were not alone.

When you returned your gaze, front and center once again, you saw him; tall, dark, a melancholy aura looming over him, ebony hair dimming his pale face, eyes, cool emerald pools glazed and lost in a world all his own. You witnessed him stand here so many times before. It seemed he too struggled with the demon that was insomnia. He blended in with the gray scale of the quiet night,. Though his back was held high, his head hung low, as if the burden of his own thoughts were too great for him to take. A permanent frown etched across his lips, though his face remained strangely serene despite the sorrow. You wondered if he finally reached a point of acceptance with his memories. You often constructed possible backstories to this gentleman; a lawyer with a troublesome family life, a policeman working on a difficult case, a recovering alcoholic. You found it much easier fabricating these stories than gathering the courage to speak to him.

Something about him though drew you to him. Perhaps it was that hint of vulnerability in the curve of his neck, revealing his fatigue. Perhaps it was that relaxed yet sorrowful frown that never seemed to depart. You longed to hold him, press him close to you and remind him that everything would be alright. Visions of you lying with him and stroking his silken locks filled the surface of your mind. With a hitched breath, you blushed at such intimate thoughts over a complete stranger.

Yet, they came, and not once did you fight them.

He suddenly broke from his trance. Lifting his head, he locked eyes with you. A little surprise, a little embarrassed at being caught in his trance, he shifted, scratching the back of his head.

But, you smiled.

His eyes widened a bit at this gesture, but eventually, after exchanging such intense stares and unspoken words, he returned the favor.

A you watched him there, a thin halo forming around his figure from the glow of the shimmering droplets, you swallowed the dry lump in your throat.

Then, you and he took one step across the empty streets.

And there at the center, your profound gazes never leaving one another,

you met...


	13. Belladonna

[Yayoi x Reader]

The horns and whir of passing vehicles muffle through the walls of the parlor. The only illumination came from the lights of the busy streets.

Alone she stands, inhaling the scent of flowers, sweet and delicate. Here she remains, scanning over the sarcophagus, composed of a simple pine. It is all she could afford.

Slowly, she approaches your eternal bed, and the tips of her fingers tracing over the rims. Bruises and gashes cover your dear face, your fragile fingers. With a trembling breath, she places the violet blossom within your frigid grasp.

Such an unfitting end to one so precious.

Her throat clenches so hard, aches shoot down to the depths of her abdomen. Her crystal eyes burn with limpid tears as they threaten to break free.

Everything inside her crumbles.

The storm within her mind steals away what little clarity remains in her exhausted mind.

Yet, despite it all, her face and posture remains perfectly rigid. She sinks into the abyss of words unspoken, words she never possessed the courage to say. She welcomes this somber companion she knows all too well, and what dragged her back from reaching out to this light, this precious glimmer of hope, now completely snuffed out and taken from her forever...

_...silence..._


	14. Roses

[Daddy!Kogami x Mommy!Reader]

“Come on, Daddy.”

“Daddy, can we go now?”

“Daaaaaaddy.”

“Come on, Daddy! We’ve been here so long.”

With a sharp exhale, the man rumpled his black locks as he gazed intently at the shelf before him. The army of young boys behind him attacked him with complaints and groans, announcing their immense desire to return to their games at home. But, an important day had arisen; Mai, his only daughter, his youngest, was celebrating her eighth birthday.

True, eight may not have been a landmark in the world of birthdays. But, Mai was a smart, little lass, perceptive, mature for her age. She might as well be turning thirteen. All the same, after watching her grow these passing years, something told him to do something a little different this year, something special, something besides the little toys she always received.

And so here he stood, skimming over the flower bouquets, arms full of groceries, black brows furrowed with concentration. The clan of children behind him, Kaede, Toru, Sato and Kobe, bickered and played as they impatiently awaited their time of departure; putting extra items in the cart, playing swords with the celery, imitating gunshot sounds.

Anything their little imaginations could conjure up, they utilized to their advantage, all working together to grab the attention of their father.

He tried. Oh, how he tried. He scratched his head, rubbed his arms, cleared his throat, anything possible to keep him focused on the task at hand. Nothing was more important than bringing home the perfect gift for his little princess.

“Daddy! Daddy! Are we ready?”

“I’m gonna get you!”

“Ah, Kobe, stop!”

“That’s cheating!”

“Let goooo!”

“Stooooooop!”

Finally, he reached his limit.

With a harsh cough, Kogami pivoted towards them, eyes flaring.

“Hey, guys,” he crossed his arms and tapped his foot.

Immediately, the boys stopped in their tracks, eyes wide with terror, standing in line like faithful, little soldiers, waiting for their next command.

He narrowed his eyes, scanning the little faces, all a mixture of your sass and his attitude: a bad combination to be perfectly frank. Despite their differences in appearance and personality, they at least shared traits of that.

And boy, could it be headache inducing.

With a sigh, Kogami pressed the bridge of his nose with his thumb.

“Guys, you know today is your sister’s birthday,” he half grumbled. “We gotta pick out something special for her.”

“But, she’s already got dolls for presents,” Sato grumbled, scratching his head.

“Why does she need flowers?” Kobe whined as he rocked back and forth.

“Girls are so annoying,” Toru moaned as he held is obviously growling stomach.

“Hey, now,” Kogami curtly responded. “You’re not going to be thinking that one day.”

After allowing the statement to sink in, the boys glanced at each other with confusion.

Memories of you flooded to the front of Kogami’s mind; your first day of work as an inspector, the way your hands trembled upon first gripping a dominator, your smile, your strength in the heat of battle.

You seemed so innocent that first day. You seemed incapable of taking on responsibilities needed for such a hard handed job.

Never did he ever think that you would become so competent, so determined to improve.

But, his favorite moments, the moments that knitted you two together, were conversations in the car, in the office, the gym, all of those lulls in which he could actually get to know you, understand you as a person.

These gradual moments were what made him fall in love with you.

You put him at ease. His hue felt clearer with you, and he could not live without you.

All the same, every rose had its thorns, and every human, no matter how seemingly perfect came with their flaws. He couldn’t count the nights spent letting you cry in his arms from stress, slowly letting the storm in your mind dissipate. He shuddered at the pointless yet exhausting arguments you engaged in. It was no lie that your love came with a price.

But, every prick and cut was worth it for the aroma.

With a quick exhale, Kogami picked the brightest bouquet in the bunch with the most perfectly shaped roses.

This would be perfect for her.

Without another word, he lead his pack of cubs through the check out line, to the car, and managed to load them and the groceries with no trouble at all. Surprisingly, they remained silent throughout the rest of the drive home. He glanced at them using the mirrors, their heads lowered, eyes keen observing the outside world.

Finally, clearing his throat, he spoke.

“Think of girls, including your sister, like roses.”

Silence. They simply blinked at him.

His hand gently rested on the plastic packaging, cool petals brushing against his skin.

“Girls,” he continued. “are sweet, beautiful and delicate, just like the flowers here. But, roses have thorns. Every rose has them.”

Finally, the boys glanced at one another, the confusion melting away.

“Girls have their thorns too,” he said, finally pulling into the driveway of their home. “You gotta treat them with respect.”

“Even if they poke you?” Kobe asked.

“Even if they poke you.”

“Even if they make you bleed?” said Sato, wiggling from his seat.

“Yup, even then. But, trust me,” he turned to them with a smile. “It’s worth it in the end.”

“Mommy! Mommy! Is it almost ready?”

“Hold on, sweetie!” you said with a laugh. “Dinner will be ready in just five minutes!”

“But, it’s my favorite!”

“I know, i know! Daddy and your brothers will be back soon!”

The little girl tugged at your pant leg, eyes sparkling with excitement. You knew it was a bad idea to sneak her samples of the meal, but a birthday only came once a year. You figured it would be harmless.

That was, until she started nagging you for more.

“Kogami, taking your sweet time, huh?” you mumbled to yourself as you removed the skillet from the stove.

As if reading your mind, you heard the rumble of excited feet and the rustle of bags all from the store.

“Mommy! We’re home!”

“Is dinner ready?”

“Can we play a game before dinner?”

“It smells so good!”

“I’m hungry!”

“Hold on, hold on!” you replied with a laugh as the hoard barged through the kitchen. In sauntered Kogami with one hand behind his back. With a smirk, you promptly slid your arms around his neck and pecked his lips when you were certain little eyes weren’t watching.

“Hey,” he whispered against your mouth.

“Took you long enough,” you replied with a wink.

“Well, let’s just say the troops were getting out of hand.”  
“Naturally,” you chuckled a little. “Someone’s been waiting to see you.”

“Ah, yes,” brushing aside to find the little lady picking through some of the remains of dinner. “Hey, there, princess.”

With a squeal, the little girl whipped about and practically lunged at her father with the tightest of embraces.

“Daddy!!!”

“Whoa there,” holding her by the waist with his free arm, he obtained his balance once again. “You’re getting so big.”

“Well, I’m growing,” she said, pride puffing her chest.

“I got you something.”

Her eyes practically glowed with delight. “What is it! What is it!”

You crossed your arms, observing the scene, heart fluttering.

After placing Mai back on the floor, he suddenly knelt down before her. Then, causing her to gasp, he held out the lovely assortment of roses for her.

“For you, dear princess,” he declared, attempting not to laugh.

You however had to clamp your hand over your mouth to prevent the giggling threatening to escape your throat.

“Oh, Daddy!” Mai cheered and took the bouquet into her delicate hands still covered in flour. “These are for me?”

He nodded. “I figured you could do with something a little special this year,” he winked.

Once again, she lunged herself at him, nearly crushing the roses in her embrace.

“They’re beautiful, Daddy!” she muffled into his neck. “Thank you so much!”

As Kogami stroked her back, he glanced up at you. You sighed in contentment, of course, following it with a thumbs up.

Girls were indeed like roses, thorns and all, but with these two beautiful blossoms in his life, every prick and stab was worth it all.

“Happy birthday, princess,” he muttered before pressing a kiss to her temple.


	15. Tangled Up In You

[Enforcer!Ginoza x Inspector!Reader]

Solitude.

The light of the silvery moon reaching into the top floor of the CID and the golden glow of the side table lamp meld together and paint the walls. All doors locked, velvety curtains framed the window, there is only you and your lover, a perfect sanctuary, perfect serenity.

An inspector and an enforcer, a symbiotic relationship in the heat of the job, yet completely forbidden by the Sibyl and shunned by society all together; yet, here you were, defying everything you were supposed to stand for.

But, what was so wrong, loving someone like this, a man who took so much effort to protect you, who constantly went out of his way to check on you, keep you company during those long, mundane hours of the night, who visited you in the hospital as you recovered from your injuries?

You always concealed feelings for him. Even in those early days as a new inspector, you admired his intuition and abilities. Because of a deep bitterness festering within him, too shy were you too approach him on a personal level. After all, he was an authority figure in your eyes, worthy of respect.

It was not until his psyche crumbled after the death of his father. Because of a hue so damaged, he was reduced to nothing and forced into a facility, isolated, cold. Mustering what bit of courage you had, you visited him as often as time would allow, hoping that another presence would bring him a little relief, a little hope.

It did so much more than you ever dreamed.

With you at his side, all of his troubles washed away, and he looked forward to every one of your calls. He depended on you for comfort, for reassurance, for the only light of happiness worth clinging to in his life.

And when he finally departed, returning to work for the police, those feelings remained, only to grow stronger.

You could no longer ignore it.

His lips melted into yours as crafty hands pull away the fabric from your shoulders. His tongue grazed over your bottom lip, and you allow entrance, your tastes mixing and melding together. The pressure increases. Your breaths staggered. You laced your arms about his neck, sliding his ebony, silky locks through your fingers. He pushed you to the edge of the bed, and with a hand on the small of your back, he carefully placed you down again the soft covers. Your clumsy fingers unfastened the buttons of his shirt, slipping just a little here and there. He smiled a bit, guiding you along until you could push away his clothes.

“Nervous?” he muttered.

“A little, I guess,” you replied with an eye roll.

In between kisses along your jaw, and one light nip, he breathed, the heat causing you to shiver,

“Don’t be. I’ll take care of you.”

For a moment, your fingertips and his own traced over the scars embedded into your skin, appreciating every detail and flaw. Those distorted adornments on each other’s skin reminded you both of how far you have come, of where you had to go in order to be here.

And it made you appreciate this time even more.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, a blush tinging your cheeks.

He bit his lip just a bit.

“Who, me?” he said with a little chuckle. “Not at all.”

“Hush,” you leaned in to kiss a scar on his chest.

With that, he sighed, a long breath of delight.

As he caged you beneath him with his knees, he released you from the confinements of your clothes. With the slow revelation of your skin, he worshipped you with soft touches and kisses over untouched plains of skin. Your nerves were set aflame with even the lightest brush against you, everything bundling and tightening within you. For one so seemingly inexperienced, he seemed to instinctively know just how to work his lips to get you whimpering and begging for more.

He carefully traced the line of your neck to your ear with the tip of his tongue then lightly nipped your earlobe. After planting a few kisses across your abdomen, he traversed into more sensitive territory. Instinctively, your moaned quietly when his teeth gently dug into tender flesh.

“Are you alright?” he asked, pressing kisses into your thigh.

You nodded. “I’m fine.”

He hummed in approval. Then, the fingers of his metallic hand, a symbol of his past, trailed over the prosthetic leg you were recently given. Though sadness brimmed his eyes, a deep love, deeper than mere words could ever describe, words that not even a thousand poems could reiterate, delved deep within him.

Just this alone allowed you to form a connection not even physical intimacy could provide.

He continued his pleasurable assault on warm flesh, leaving his marks. Satisfied with the little red indentations he left, he hovered his mouth over your most tender spot. Slowly, he licked you, triggering a shiver. Holding his own breath, he teased with his tongue, now carefully holding your hips. Beads of sweat formed along your chest as you writhed in this pleasurable torture. As he pushed inside even more, carefully moving and manipulating every part of you, your desire for him and longing for release skyrocketed. You groaned through tight lips, as you felt yourself come closer to the edge. Much to your dismay, he ceased his actions, only to place his tongue with nimble fingers. Immediately, you cried out, cried out for him, with every twist and turn, and he shuddered at every sound you emitted.

Once more, he pulled away, and you whined at the absence of his touch. Before you realized it, he hovered over you, eyes full of desire, lips parted, breath ragged.

“R-Ready?” he inquired, swallowing hard.

“Yes-!” you gripped his arms.

He rubbed and delved against you, hips moving against each other as if preparing you for what was to come. Finally, you sunk your teeth into your lip as he entered you at last. He sighed as he sensed the warmth of you enrapture him, leaving him hot, overstimulated. You gazed into each other’s eyes, losing yourselves in a see of longing, passion. With a loud gulp, he carefully rested himself atop you, sucking you lips into a sloppy kiss, moaning into your mouth.

At first, your tentative and tense body was unsure whether to flinch or proceed. To your relief, he waited for you.

But, lucky for you both, the discomfort vanished.

With a smile of approval, you pulled him by his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his hips, allowing each movement to send you closer and closer to a long awaited ecstasy. He buried his face into your neck, breathing in your scent as if it were the only air he needed to survive. His slow, rhythmic movements unleashed long, built up tension. He yearned so much to be with you, to be close to you, and this was the closest two in love could possibly be, a sacred bond. You two endured so much together, in the heat of battle, in the confinements of the asylum, in the lonely nights you spent apart.

You were literally everything to him. You were his world, his air, the light in his darkness, the only thing he liked about even himself.

Despite the intensity of his movements, the sweat clinging your skin together, he tied his fingers with your own, this little action speaking louder than an “I love you” could.

Unable to formulate a reply with words, you simply pressed a kiss to his temple.

At least, you reached the edge of lechery, falling down, down, until you breathed a trembling sigh. He followed shortly after, moaning into your ear and kissing the shell.

Warm, exhausted, he rolled off you then invited you into his arms. Immediately, you buried your face into his chest, as if hiding from all the horrors of the world. After switching off the lamp, he rested his cheek against your hair, his prosthetic fingers trailing up and down your spine.

“You alright?” he whispered in between butterfly kisses feathered across your forehead.

You hummed. “Just tired.”

“Sleep then.”

You nodded as he draped a lose blanket over your form.

He watched you a moment as you ventured to the world of your dreams, the soft circles beneath your eyes, tiny scars adorning your face, your hair glowing in the dim light from the outside. His fingertips traced over these treasures.

He would give up everything if it meant being together with you. You were the only thing that made sense in this world, the only thing worth hanging onto.

He would always remain tangled up in you.


	16. Break Down

[Yandere!Kogami x Inspector!Reader]

He fell once,

and he would do it again.

His sanity once crumpled and crashed to the mercy of the world,

and it would once fall more to the mercy of you.

Day one came, you were innocent and untouched by the cruelty of the world, but that soon would shatter in the world of a detective.

You clung to him. You depended on him,

and he never wanted it an other way.

For one so strong and tough as you, a fragility hung about you, one that needed to be cherished and protected,

and he would remain here to protect you, to fight for you, to jump in front of a bullet for you if required.

You became his life, his world,

and sinful desires began pooling within him

An inspector and an enforcer, a princess and a wolf, such a relationship would be wrong, forbidden.

For the longest time, he watched you from afar.

He watched you speak and laugh with others. He watched as you passed by with companions and midnight lovers to take your troubles away.

He hated them.

He hated them all.

Alone in his room, he felt his hue dissipate,

little by little,

breaking down.

With each breath of a cigarette, he drowned himself in the smoke, inhaling the poison.

He was sick of it.

He was determined to keep you at his side,

no matter what the cost.

Another mission, another job, and you rubbed the moisture from your brow as you pondered, thought. He glanced around at the scenery, the flickering lights of the street, the mist, the white breath from his lips disappearing into nothing.

As you lost yourself in the sea of thoughts, he took you by the neck, preventing all cries for help.

You were aware of his strength, but this was unbearable. He pinned you to him.

And before you could reach for your glowing dominator, he pressed the metal of his weapon to your cheek.

He would never shoot you.

He would never harm you.

But, a little threat was needed every now and then.

Despite your utter terror, the numb coursing through you, the dominator slipped to the ground with a crash.

And with a dark smile, a cold press of his lips to the skin of your neck, he dragged you back into his fog, his darkness.

He fell once,

and he did so again with you,

slowly crumbling bit by bit.

But, with you at his side, he failed to care one way or another.

With you at his side,

he was ready to break down once again.


	17. Healing

[Therapist!Ginoza x Anxious!Reader] AU

_I can’t do this. I don’t understand this. I’ll never get better. Why me? I’m so worthless._

_Worthless..._

She buries her face in her hands as she pours everything out to him; no rhyme. No reason.

Just words drowned in emotions bottled and put away for far too long.

She is sick of it, sick and tired of it all. The same thoughts and images gaze directly at her. How could something as meaningless as these silly ideas strike this much terror into her heart?

_Because you’re weak,_ she told herself

_You idiot, you shouldn’t feel this way._

_Are you well yet? Of course you’re not._

She rubs the tears away from the back of her hand as she looks into the doctor’s soft, green eyes as he traces the rim of his mug with the tip of his finger. Ginoza’s face is relaxed yet completely unreadable. 

Sure, it is his job, listening to the ploys of his patients, but she convinces herself that their problems make a little more sense than her own. At least, the chaos of reality triggers their downward spiral.

She only drowns in herself, fears and images her mind cannot let go.

And she cannot forgive herself. 

With a trembling sigh, she leans into the plush, leather couch, rumpling the fabric on the pillow at her side. The black cloud of emotion thickens in the silence.

The cup ticks as its placed atop the glass. He watches her, head buried in her hands, eyes wide, red and puffy. He listens to her ragged breathing, listens to her take control once again.

_In...out...in...out..._

“I’m fine,” she says. “I feel better now.”

But, he knows.

He sees her ploy, her attempt to control and console herself. 

In and out once again, until she finally exhales, slowly, surely. 

It seems so small, so insignificant, but that breath alone signifies her strength.

The leather of the chair crumples and creaks as he rises from his seat and slips to her side. Without a warning, his palm smooths down her hair, soft, delicate gestures that ease the tightening in her chest. She turns to him, and the fear in her face diminishes just a little. 

And she manages to force a smile.

His expression softening, he places a hand on her cheek and wipes away the hot streaks with his thumb.

“You’ve done well,” he tells her, his voice like silk.

Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, she draws near to him, nestling into his embrace.

“Thanks, Ginoza,” she whispers and buries her face into his shirt, fists rumpling the white fabric. 

He replies with nothing more than a gentle press of his lips to her forehead.

They say such a relationship between a doctor and a patient is unorthodox and unprofessional. 

But, in the midst of horror, in the midst of sadness, a spark of love is formed. 

This process is slow, trying. Recovery never comes by magic. 

But, with this little glint of hope,

she could see healing at the brink of the horizon.

And he would be there for her, hand in hand.


	18. Do Androids Dream...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RScZrvTebeA Please listen while you read!

[Replicant!Makishima x Replicant!Reader] AU

_"'Emigrate or degenerate! _

_ The choice is yours!'"_

A society in which your kind acts as nothing more than expendable serfs to the human race, the advancement of technology has expanded far and beyond imagination. One could receive anything they so desired with nothing more than a snap of the fingers. People live as they chose so long as it caused no danger to fellow citizens.

But, all you perceive is filth and blackness.

All he notices is the depravity and horror hidden behind these animals, daring to dub themselves as civil. 

Robot. Android. Andy. Machine. Replicant.

It matters not what terms scar your very existence. You dwell among these beings of flesh and blood spit upon, seen as nothing more than the dirt beneath their feet. After all, why should they? They only use you for the dirty work they themselves are too lazy or too terrified to accomplish. 

And once four years have passed, once your limit has been reached, you are doomed for termination, only to be replaced by a newer, fresher model.

If you so dare to defy the authorities, the skilled police known as Blade Runners would hunt you down and execute you without a bat of an eyelash.

But, why does this knowledge bring you such sadness, such hopelessness? Why does this information bring such an empty feeling?

If you are nothing more than biomechanical parts, fluid, and wires, why did your synthetic core throb at such a grave future? 

Is this what humans call a heart?

Did you even possess a heart?

In that case, what is the truth? Are you this mindless servant, 

or perhaps, 

are you human? 

_"The electric things have their life too. _

_ Paltry as those lives are."_

Shogo Makishima.

He is unlike any Replicant you have ever encountered. He refuses to reduce himself to such petty work. He rejects every rule society places upon him. He submerges himself in the arts, in literature, in music. He treats his mind and body with care and respect, caring not what his framework might say. 

Every day, you find yourself more and more thankful for your meeting.

You long to learn more. You long to discover your own talents and skills.

You wish to be at his side. Nowhere else. He relishes and admires the desire within you to learn, to know, to understand. You pleasure in the simplicities in life long forgotten by humankind.

He speaks of a hope, an ideal world for beings such as yourself, beings that defy all expectations.

For you have found pieces of humanity in a world so cold, full of stone, steel, electricity. 

And you and he grow to love every little piece you found.

If you are nothing more than an android, a thing incapable of pain or suffering,

what is this warm feeling inside your chest when you gaze into his pristine face and limpid eyes of gold?

What is this respect and admiration you hold for one another?

Are Replicants such as you capable of love?

Are you human?

_"...ultimately, the empathic gift blurred the boundaries between hunter and victim, _

_ between the successful and the defeated."_

Alas, your hiding place could not remain concealed for long. Blade Runner Shinya Kogami stays close on your trail. Makishima is nothing short of brilliant. His intelligence and shrewdness outshines any human you have ever encountered.

But, this Blade Runner, hair darker than night and eyes colder than ice, is not one to be trifled with. Just the thought sends shivers down your rigid spine. 

No matter where you run, or where you hide, he tracks you both down with such disturbing ease.

Death lingers on the horizon, and all dreams of a bright future dim and fade.

He is the hunter, and you are the prey, a trash heap meant to be tossed aside, a threat to society.

The thought sickens you. 

When you think of Makishima, everything he knows, all of his wisdom and understanding,

is it possible to think so lowly of one so precious?

Such as it is, the life of your kind...

But, the fear you sense, the tightening of your limbs, the clenching of your chest, the trembling of your fingers, did that not resemble a human’s terror?

Did this no resemble the instinct to protect one’s life, the urge to live?

Are you not a human, so thirsting for life?

_”Quite an experience to live in fear, isn't it? That's what it is to be a slave.”_

  
_”I think, therefore I am.”_

_”I want more life!”_

As you conceal yourself in the shadows once more, watching the rain patter against the broken glass of the abandoned building, the musty smell invading your nostrils, you listen to the sound of your breaths meeting in time with his...

Inhale...

Exhale...

It sounds no different than a human’s breathing.

You require this simple, involuntary action to survive.

You contain a pulse that pushes fluid through metallic veins. 

Your overall construction may differ.

But, you think; you feel;

you _dream._

Yet, the backwards, twisted society you dwell in treats these basic contributions of life as nothing more than a thing of the past, nothing to be recognized.

Your fate still hangs in the balance. Your dwindling life still floats within the realms of uncertainty. 

When you wrap your fingers with his own, you close your eyes, sensing the warm moisture seeped into his skin, the fluttering throb within those vessels, the tingling sensation you receive from that contact alone. Strands of his pale hair shadow his perfect features, lashes brushing against his cheek. 

With a hint of a smile, you rest your head against his shoulder, dousing yourself in his clean scent and heat. 

The Blade Runner never ceases to leave you be, and you sense that. You know not how much longer you two will remain on this earth, whether the precious memories you have shared together will be lost in time, like tears in the rain.

But, as he turns to you, and gently presses a silky kiss against the sweet skin of your forehead, then brings your fingertips to his lips with tenderness, the uncertainties you face meld with the pleasure of simply being human. 

It all seems perfect and beautiful with him at your side.

Humans think. They feel. They dream. They desire to protect themselves. They long to preserve their way of life.

You and Makishima, despite your biomechanical blue prints, your skeleton and vessels of metal and wire, fail to understand how you happened upon these abilities.

As far as you know, you have always been this way; human. Nothing more, nothing less.

And you would cling to these, even if it cost you your lives, lives you love and value more than ever. 

_”All he'd wanted were the same answers the rest of us want. _

_ Where did I come from? _

_ Where am I going? How long have I got?”_

_"More human than human" is our motto.”_

_”Do androids dream?”_


	19. After Hours

[Kogami x Inspector!Reader]

“Nng, Kogami, not too hard.”

“Hm? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t bite so hard.”

His chuckle feathers against your neck in hot breaths. The rims of his lips skim lightly over your skin, enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Liar,” he murmurs, taking a tender piece of your skin between his teeth and sinking down hard.  
“You like it this way.”

You press your lips together into a thin line, attempting to conceal the noises of pleasure threatening to escape your throat.

“Yeah, but someone will probably be asking about the bruises if you aren’t careful,” you groaned before rolling your eyes and pressing your chest into him.

Nimble fingertips lose themselves into mats of your hair as they glide through to the base of your neck. He pulls you a little closer and set your chin against his shoulder. For a moment, you breathe in his scent and the bite of cigarette smoke. Strands of his ebony hair tickle your nose. His pulse, slow and deep, beats in time with your own.

You know better. You know it is wrong for you to tangle yourself in such an illicit relationship with an enforcer.

After all, you are an inspector. He is your guard dog. You are the master.

But, a gaze from his steely eyes, a word, a brush against you, and you become clay in his hands.

You require more will power for your position. However, saying no to him is impossible to you.

It is shameful, yet so thrilling.

“Who’s gonna ask?” he whispers softly against the shell of your ear. He takes a little bit of your earlobe and sucks on it lightly.

Involuntarily, you jolt in his lap. His voice alone sends tingles through your form.

“You’d be surprised how observant people can be, Kogami,” you hum, rubbing your hands down his rumpled, white shirt. “You of all people should know that.

Again, a low rumbled of a laugh vibrates in his chest. His palms trail down your spine and rest at your sacrum. Causing you to yelp quietly, he kneads the sensitive flesh around your hips, down your thighs draping down his sides. He urges you closer, closer, until heated parts, swollen and aching, meet together. A flush spreads across your cheeks, and he smirks in satisfaction at the soft moan escaping your throat. In return, he grazes his teeth along your jaw until his mouth hovers over yours.

His usually cold eyes smolder your own, clouded with lust.

Your mouth runs dry as you lose yourself in the intensity of his stare.

“Kogami,” your voice breaks as his name rolls off your tongue.

“Then, let them see,” he breathes huskily before claiming your mouth in a fiery kiss.

All resistance releases, so you meld into him with no care in the world.

You should no better. You should say no to him. You should put him in his place.

You are the inspector. He is the enforcer.

But, in these moments, all obstacles are dropped, and you are his to take...

Especially in these lonely, after hours.


	20. Suppression

[Yandere!Ginoza x Inspector!Reader]

Inspector Ginoza Nobuchika witnessed the play out of many crimes in his life. Worst of all, he observed the deteriorating mentality of those committing those crimes.

Some of these criminals fit every classic villain cliche like a kid’s jigsaw puzzle; the erratic behavior, monologuing their motives. Hell, some even emitted an evil laugh when their work was complete, as if they possessed no other form of expressing their madness.

However, others surpassed the bounds of silly, fictional archetypes. No scanner, no human perception could note the dark seed growing inside them. Diabolical, sociopathic, they wore an alluring disguise to avoid suspicion, to utilize others according to their will.

And then, there were others who suppressed their desires. Instead of creating ways to unleash the hell within them, they swallowed their pride. They listened to their reason. They conducted themselves as any normal citizen would, revealing nothing of the chaos within. 

Ginoza believed himself to be a man of strong mind, high intellect and the sharpest reason. He lead his men through work with his head held high. He offered them his wisdom and advice as best as he could, whether they took it or not. He ignored their whispers, their idle chat. He focused on his work and work alone. He had no time for anything else, what with the weight of the authorities pushing so heavily on his shoulders. 

But, he just had to make what he considered to be the worst mistake of his life: accepting you into the division.

He never would have surmised the agony it would cause him. You were a rookie, nothing more. Fresh and bright eyed, you braced yourself for what was to come. So fearless, so strong, so _naive._ You would soon learn the true extend your job would bring.

But, as time progressed, you kept your smile. You withheld your optimism, even when you longed so much to break down and cry. You attended to your companions. You stood at their sides when they needed it most, be it a kind word, a hug, or support. Ginoza warned you against this. He alerted you to the possibility of your own psycho pass dwindling due to the stress of caring for so many. 

You did heed his warning. Still, you continued on. You even directed love and attention towards him. Bringing him tea, maybe a sandwich, some cookies, just little acts of kindness to light his world, even for only a moment, these acts meant the world to him, despite his failing to express it as often as he should.

These small moments escalated to quick exchanges of dialogue, growing into conversations lasting into the small hours of the morning.

He never intended it to be this way. He never thought it would come to this.

But, before he realized it, before he could prevent himself from falling into this trap, he depended on you for comfort he never received, for encouragement he so craved for, for insight on questions he never received answers to. He depended on you for _everything._ He almost wondered if he could even breathe without you at his side. 

But, such depth of feeling bore seeds to other more toxic emotions; envy, jealousy, desperation, desire, rage. He despised seeing you bestow your tenderness on others, when he craved it- no, _needed_ it - more than anyone else on this force. The anger boiled within him, the heat surging through his limbs, down to his fingertips. 

No one else deserved your company. No one suffered the way he had to require your attention, did it?

Of course not. Everyone suffered in their own way, and the voice of reason within him reminded him of this fact. 

This sick desire, however, refused to leave him, the urge to steal you away from the presence of others, keeping you only for himself, to spend those long hours together, sharing secrets and thoughts no one would hear of.

Still, he wanted more, and shades of pink and red colored his cheeks at the images projecting in the front of his mind; he longed for your touch, your silky fingers across his bare skin, your lips of velvet warmly encircling his mouth, his teeth marring and bruising your skin, reminding those around just who you belonged to. Rarely did his mind drift to conceptions of love, romance or even carnal needs. Because of you, he _obsessed._ In the blackness of the night, silence was broken with soft moans of pleasure as he caressed, stroked his overstimulated, moistening skin. He felt utterly disgusting, touching himself to the thought of you, a fellow inspector, a coworker.

Yet, that fueled his excitement, a sickening thrill only obtained from forbidden lust.

All the same, Ginoza had a far bigger burden, resting on his shoulders, and there was too much at risk for him to succumb to his animalistic desires.

He battled everyday with this monster inside, the Hyde to his Jekyll. Just as these criminals he so despised, he conducted himself as an inspector, as a respectable citizen under the Sybil system. 

But, his eye always rested on you, always watching, always tracking your every movement. You still continued your relationship as it was, happily talking away the night over cookies and alcohol.

And one of these days, when you least expected, he would reveal the monster under suppression...

It was only a matter of time...


	21. Exspiravit

[Ghost!Ginoza x Reader] AU

Grieving is a process, not a straight line, not a pattern. It contains rapid dips and turns, as well as moments of complete stillness, moments where one neither moves forward nor backwards but remains fixated in place, exhausted, numb. Everyone grieves differently. Everyone handles loss in their own fashion, working through their emotions, bearing the pain. No one can prescribe a specific name to truly heal the pain

There is always one step, one that everyone dreads to take...

You always believe you handle your sorrow better than most. You cry when you need. You expel tension through exercise, sleep, treating yourself every now and then. You think certainly that you handle yourself quite well, that you are so close to recovering.

But, grief still looms over you. It still clings to you in desperation in fear that you would soon forget...

It follows you in the form of a an apparition, or so you swear. Hair like a solitary night, eyes soft, light, pale, its form though misty still elongates to an elegant figure. You dismiss it as nothing more than a figment of your imagination, often common when dealing with loss. You ignore it. You attend to your everyday life. You meet with friends. You visit family.

You believe yourself to be healing, to truly be dealing with those emotions, rotting you to the core. 

But, as night comes, and you nestle yourself into your sanctuary of sleep, why does such a heavy feeling weight upon your chest? Why do your limbs feel so cold despite the thick covering of blankets?

A million and one thoughts circulate through your mind; regret, anger, bitterness, doubt, denial, despair. Everything you thought once to have expelled crash upon you like a raging storm. It so constricts you, the aching so engulfs you, that you forget to breathe...

_Why?_ you wonder.

How could you possibly be doing so well one minute, and then longing for your own death the next?

Then, drowning in your ocean of befuddled thoughts, you catch glimpse of your spirit again, those soft eyes peering down at you, shadowy figure approaching your bedside.

Tears burn your eyes. Your throat tightens, and your stomach twists, yet nothing escapes.

With a trembling hand, you reach out to this delicate wraith, the simple, golden band around your finger glinting in the muted light.

And a smile perches on his lips...

Finally, it hits you. Everything suddenly makes sense.

You didn’t want to let go. You want to keep these ghastly feelings close to you, because they at least remind you of him. They at least keep him alive in your memories.

You couldn’t accept, and you wonder if you ever would.

But, you would rather die from the burden of the grief than forget...

You scrutinize the ghost’s features. Every detail, every curve, every strand of hair, every wrinkle and scar..._perfect_...

Just as you remember him...

“Ginoza...,” your voice cracks and breaks as your arm strains for him.

Suddenly, nearing ripping a scream from your raw throat, his hand rests on your on, colder than arctic ice.

Yet, you couldn’t possible feel more comfort and relief wash over you.

As his thumb barely caresses the back of your hand, he whispers, a voice fainter than the most quiet of breezes,

“Hello again, darling.”


	22. Tension

[Kogami x Reader]

Every day started the same; wake up, shower, eat, walk to work, perhaps dodge a few reckless drivers, arrive to class a little behind, losing yourself in your notes. Then, you would find your spot in the back, right next to him;Shinya Kogami.

You never thought it awkward at first, being next to him. After all, you grew up together, attended the same school. You spent time on projects and extracurricular activities. You considered yourselves to be close friends, sibling worthy.

But, something felt wrong. No, not wrong persay, but certainly different.

His lids lowered, fogging grey eyes with lust, gaze never departing from your figure. When standing at your side, he made his presence known by pressing himself closer to you. His touches became more delicate, light, as if he wished to stimulate sensitive nerves he shouldn’t.

It made you wonder if you should steer clear from him, break ties with him altogether. But what if he noticed? You were as close as siblings. He more than likely would...wouldn’t he?

Instead, you simply put it at the back of your mind. You had far more important things to worry about.

Another night full of vigorous studying, and you found yourself locked in your dorm on a Thursday night. Your weekends were your nights off after all. Not a chance in hell you were going to waste it on homework.

But, your head began to cloud, and your limbs fell heavy. Hours and hours of nonstop study really took a toll on the body and mind.

Still, you were so close, you could almost taste the freedom.

Yet, you still wanted to execute these assignments to the best of your ability.

Conclusion: the more exhausted you were, the worse you would do on your assignments. It was officially time for a break.

With a yawn, you rose from the confinements of your desk, stretching stiff libs, pieces of tightened cartilage cracking along the way. When you entered the light of the living room, you found your roommate there, sprawled across the couch, black hair muddled and clothes hanging loosely around his muscular form.

All you knew to do was purse your lips and cock an eyebrow.

“Finished with all your homework, huh, Shinya?” you inquired, crossing your arms.

He made no attempt to avert his attention to you, so he simply nodded.

“All of it?”

“Yes.”

“Including the psych essay?”

“I said everything, didn’t I?”

“Damn it.”

Foiled again.

You never seemed to get any dirt on him when you wanted him too, and on the moments you caught him, no one else was around.

“Fair enough,” with that, you brushed by him.

But, you never noticed the pair of grey eyes watching the rhythm of your hips sway as you walked by...

You sighed deeply as you reached for your favorite mug, and another bowl of ramen, because everyone knew college students survived on the four main food groups: beer, caffeinated drinks, instant meals, and ramen. You tried to ease away as much from the beer as possible, but on stressful days, it was hard not to indulge.

With a few press of the buttons, you stood at the counter, head against the wall, mindlessly brewing the cup of coffee you knew would keep you alive for the rest of the evening. It became instinct to you, embedded into your muscle memory. Standing stagnant left your mind temporarily fogged from the fatigue of the day.

“May just a quick nap will help,” you murmured as you rubbed your forehead.

Suddenly, you perceived a rattle and a shuffle of bare feet against the slick tile. You figured it was Kogami just coming in for a quick snack or drink. No reason to look.

Until you felt something warm and hard press up against you from behind. Your eyes widened, and your heart nearly stopped. Two hands gripped the counter, pinning you to the smooth edge.

Before you could speak, your breath caught in your throat as a pair of silky lips met with your jaw. Your back immediately straightened, going rigid.

“Sh-Shinya-!”

He responded by taking a piece of your earlobe between his teeth, hot breath blowing into your ear. Heat rose to your cheeks. Your limbs quivered. His hands came to your waist, preventing you from falling even just a little.

“You’re surprised?” he whispered against the base of your neck.

You lick the dry cracks in your lips as you instinctively lean into him as kisses trailed down the line of your neck.

“Wha-?”

“Surely, you’re not that dense,” he said with a breathy chuckle.

You clicked your tongue. “No, I’m not. I just-”

“Then, relax,” reaching the crook of your neck, he sunk his teeth into sensitive skin.

Your nerves were set ablaze from your head down beyond your legs. Your mind turned off completely, and at once, you pivoted and threw your arms around his neck, crashing your mouth against his with such force, you wondered how he failed to lose his balance. He only tightened his embrace and simply hummed in approval at your actions. You were disgusted by the almost animalistic noises emitting from your throat, but you didn’t have room to care one bit.

The tension finally grew too much, and all you knew to do was give in.

Breaking you from the kiss, he lifted you from the floor, causing you to gasp. With a deep chuckle, vibrating in his chest, he murmured against your lips,

“Shall we take this elsewhere?”

You smirked.

“Didn’t need to ask me twice.”


	23. Pillow Talk

[Kogami x Reader]

“Babe...Babe...Babe.”

“What, Shinya?”

“Get off your phone.”

“Hold on. I’m texting Akane.”

He grunts.

“Hey! Give that back! Don’t put it in the drawer!”

“Akane can wait.” Grey eyes flash devilishly.

She rolls her eyes, sighing,

“You are a worthless brat.”

“We just had the time of our lives. So, let’s top it off.”

“What the hell does that even mean, Shinya?”

Wrist snatched, she is pulled into his hard chest, engulfed by warmth. She blinks.

“The idea,” he wraps strong arms around her. “is to actually relax and cuddle.”

“That’s why I’m surprised,” she giggles and latches her arms around him. “You don’t cuddle.”

“Tch, I was taught by the best.”

“You mean me, right?”

He flicks her forehead.

“Hey!!” she rubs the wounded spot.

“Your pillow talk is shit.”

“Pfft, you can’t have everything, right?”

“Just shut up and snuggle me, you moron.”

“Fine.”


	24. Safe Haven

[Ginoza x Anxious!Reader]

Another day.

Another morning you spent waking up with your partner at your side, a dastardly fellow who has haunted you for years, from the long, drawn out hours of the day, to the sheets covering your bed; a mate you so despised yet you found no strength to say no too.

>i>Anxiety.

It was not until you graduated high school that you and this man encountered each other. He terrified you so, yet your weakened soul found him strangely appealing. It was a self destructive relationship you let seep into your veins. Even when you attempted to break it off, he followed you wherever you went.

Sometimes, he was quiet, allowing to pursue your life as an inspector, allowing you to enjoy happy hours, happy moments as any other ordinary person.

But, he lurked in the darkness, waiting to pounce on you at any unsuspecting moment.

When you finally married your childhood sweetheart, Ginoza Nobuchika, you were almost positive this would kill anxiety once and for all, that you would finally break the chains of this monster, stalking you for so many years. He knew of your battles. He knew of your pain. He knew well of the chaos within you. but, this only made him pull you closer. He knew every little thoughts that plagued you. He cradled you in his arms at night. He spoke to you, firmly but sweetly, bringing you back to the world of reality. He cleared your mind. He eased away that tension in your chest. Even at your worst, he found his way to you just that he could hold your hand. Despite his own stresses, he managed to soothe your own. Being forever bound to him meant setting you free from anxiety forever...right?

If only that were true...

Here you were, staring into the morning sky, clouds glowing from the concealed light of the sun, winds swaying to the rhythm of the wind, chest tightening, stomach churning, heart pounding, thoughts racing. You saw this coming. You saw this building; the consecutive nightmares, yet no response, the stress of work and life. Were you falling back? Was your mind giving up? Was this the end?

Suddenly, you perceived a rustle at your side, a soft moan, an arm brushing against your skin. You turned your gaze to your husband. His black tresses stuck to his pale face. Dark circles adorned his eyes, and shadows cast along the contours of his face. Dime placed his chin on his master’s abdomen, fur glistening in the light, breathing slow. Despite the urge tickling your throat, you attempted to suppress a laugh. 

“Such a big kid,” you whispered, sitting up and stretching your limbs.

But, even with that little distraction, the voice in the back of your mind insisted on keeping those pieces of negativity close. Your heart sank in your chest. Tears burned your eyes.

But, no, you needed to release...you couldn’t hold this in.

Fear had crept into your safe haven...

Burying your face in your hands, you muffled your cries. Ginoza had no reason to hear this now; after all, you were both in the middle of a huge case. A few anxious thoughts meant nothing in comparison.

But, just before you could wallow in these thoughts, a soft pair of arms encircled your waist, pulling you in for an embrace.

“You’re up early,” Ginoza whispered softly, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Couldn’t sleep again,” you muffle as you hastily dried tears from your eyes.

He paused, and all you perceived was his breathing.

“Nightmares?” he finally stated.

You swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

Suddenly releasing you from his grip, he gently pushed you down so that your head was situated comfortably in his lap. When you glanced up, all you could see was his face hovering over you, hair dangling about you, green eyes practically piercing into your soul.

“Why did you not tell me?” he muttered as his fingertips gently ventured around the line of your face.

You darted your eyes away from his gaze.

“You of all people need as much sleep as you can get,” you grumbled.

“Hush,” he softly commanded.

Before you could speak, he leaned over you and pressed feathery kisses along your forehead. Your breath caught in your throat, yet you shivered with delight. Warmth replaced the numbing feelings shooting through you. Instinctively, you took his face in your hands.

“There we are,” he said with a smile. “Breathe. Slowly.”

In.

Out.

“That’s it. Keep it up.”

In.

Out.

1...

2...

3...

“That’s my girl.”

With one more slow, relaxed exhale, you smiled up at him, playing with the ends of his hair. The usually hard expression on his face melted into utter sweetness, warm cheeks tinged with pink, coldness in his eyes, melting into pools of green.

Little by little, the tension inside loosened, releasing you from its violent grip.

“Thanks, Nobuchika,” you whispered as your drew little patterns in his cheek.

“Not at all,” his palm rested atop your hand. “I can spare a few hours of sleep if it means keeping your hue from clouding.”

You chuckled lightly.

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumbled. “Always with the cloudy hues with you.”

With an eye roll, he silenced you with a soft peck on the lips.

Anxiety may have always been a close companion with you, but with Ginoza at your side, you knew you would at least have a safe haven in his arms.

“How about a walk?” he suggested. “Dime would certainly enjoy, and I think the exercise and fresh air would help.”

“Yeah, just as long as there are pancakes after!”

“It’s a deal.”


	25. Twisted

[Makishima x Anxious!Reader]

[Makishima’s perspective]

_Trembling...Eyes fixated on images burrowed deep into your psyche..._

_I wonder what words flow through your fogged mind as of now, what thoughts you still formulate behind those silent lips..._

The proximity between us matters not, the shared heat of our breaths, the warmth of our skin melding together, your eyes still glaze as you listen to the thoughts swirling in your mind. I know what often ails you, yet so rarely do you speak of it.

How courageous of you to go against the words of your doctors and attempt to sort things out without their assistance. Instead you come to me, a low life, a creature off the beaten path. Am I truly worthy of such trust?

Even as children, I can recall your constant war with your psycho pass. After fate tore us apart, you became fearful of what the system might wage on you. How unfair is it that your gentle nature, your inner ailments are dubbed as potential evil in the world we dwell in.

How it angers me so...

I can recall every letter you sent to me as I was held away in captivity, simply for the ability of hiding from the eye of Sibyl. How much did it hurt seeing your frantically written words, expressing your worries, your nightmares, and the emptiness I left behind. It angered me so that I could not return with words of comfort....or even any words at all. I just prayed to whomever might be listening that your aching heart would find consolation. 

Ah, the memory of my release still warms my heart to this day; how you clung to me with tears of relief and joy. I could feel everything inside me easing as I embraced you, inhaling your scent and feeling your frame pressed against my own. Old days of innocence, days stolen away, resurfaced to the front of my mind, and my heart clenched.

How much you had grown yet to little had you changed. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, I stole you away, out of the surveillance of the system, two outcasts free to be what they so chose.

And here will you remain, until you can regain your footing and reclaim your serenity.

But even still, I will not let you go.

And you know it.

Despite your pained heart, your unstable hue, you are still my source of solace, my source of comfort and peace.

It is a delightful, twisted relationship only we two can understand.

Hours seem to have crept by before I finally awaken you from your reverie with a caress of your cheeks of satin, laden with tears. Your eyes flutter with the grace of a butterfly’s wings as you glance up at me. A sprinkle of humor in my voice, I say to you,

“ ‘How now, my love? Why is your cheek so pale?’ “

Ah, how silly you look with nothing more as a blink to reply.

“ ‘How chance the roses there do fade so fast? ‘ “

At last, you return with a smile and the quietest of chuckles, your nose, the delicate corners of your eyes, wrinkling ever so slightly.

“Forgive me,” you reply. “I cannot recall my next line. It’s been some time since I’ve delved into the works of Shakespeare.”

“How about dinner, some music, and a reading tonight?” my fingers slide through your messy locks, releasing the tangles in the midst. “I believe some laughter will benefit you, my dear.”

You nod in return and say in a dulcet whisper,

“I would appreciate that, Shogo.”

It warms my heart to see your pain easing. Just as you rise from the imprint in the covers, I press my lips into yours, still dry and cracked from the hours you slept away, haunted by your dreams, tormented by your monsters.

So I would be here once again to steal you away once more into a world of pleasure, ready to fend away the dragons that dare attempt to kidnap and harm you; just like those silly yet precious fairy tales many so take for granted.


	26. Insaniam

[Makishima x Writer!Reader] AU

_”If you so despise this world, why not reach out? Why not take action? Why not change what you can?”_

“Makishima, I am a humble writer. My books never seem to leave paperback status, yet I pathetically continue to do so in hopes of becoming a best seller.”

Not here.

Not with this system.

_”Channel that creativity. Utilize it to catalyze that change this world so desperately starves for.”_

Golden eyes glisten as they peer into your own.

“I can’t, Makishima...”

Your eyes flutter as tears drip from burning, moistened ducts.

_“Then,” _ pristine, pale hands rest on your shoulder. Warmth encircles you. His fingers lightly caress your chin as he lifts it to meet his face. _“Let us combine our efforts. You and I, a team of outcasts. Let us take this world by storm and deliver the revision people so desperately lust for.”_

“You...and me?”

_”Yes,”_ his smile twinkles brighter than the stars in the heavens. _”Why not you and I?”_

Why...?

Why not....?

Yes, certainly.

There is nothing holding you back.

You could run away with him, run from your stresses, your worries, the grey realm you currently dwelled in.

You could leave it all behind.

What is holding you back...?

You blink, tears soaking into the pages below you. Ink sticks to the side of your hand. The smell of old cigarette smoke wafts into your nostrils from the nearby ashtray. With a moan and a stretch of the neck, you rub your stinging eyes. Then, you return to your pages.

So many crumpled and thrown away...

So much time has passed yet so little has been accomplished...

The deadline is hanging over your head, and nothing would change that.

Hell of a time to get writer’s block...

Roughly scratching your scalp, your chest and throat tighten, and you’re ready to burst into tears. Once again, you return to the near blank pages before you. Frantically scribbled over the first page is one simple word, nothing more:

_Makishima..._

_”Why not you and I?”_

Swallowing hard, you rise from your seat, only to burrow into the sanctuary of your bed.

“Because you’re just in my head, Makishima...”


	27. Road Avenger

[Kogami x Reader] AU

From the moment it happened, he reached that insane, but trustworthy decision. Shinya Kogami was bent on performing the extreme act of justice. How else would he show that he loved you? Love brimmed into passion that sparked a livid need to do you justice. The only thing he could do was make peace with himself. All in all, he could safely say this was not his fault. All that was left was to prove it to himself.

Those gangs are running rampant again, and this time, it's personal. She needs me, and I will stop at nothing until I show her how much I cared, how much I loved her. Some bastards just have to pay in the process.

Rhyme and reason barely played a part in the process. All at once, Kogami started the engine to his car and sped away--speed is the operative word. He was fueled on the adrenaline and aimed for the one goal. Hardly any other emotion played as nothing could make him forget the very moment it happened. Only a little thinking was involved, mostly from checking around his car. Just like himself, the gangs had armed themselves in vehicles, and if they were to find him out, they would surely surround him. Kogami was okay with this; the closer in sight, the better. If he was able, he would vow to clean up the whole country to unveil them.

Come and get me. I'm over here.

Kogami could power through the city in a single day, sure to destroy everything he touched, even without intention. Every violation in the book poured into this chase: speeding, destroying property, driving on the wrong side of the road, and much more added chaos. Surely, this hot-blooded spirit could come out alive.

That afternoon, he was taking his adventure to the highway, where more dangers were certain to occur. As expected, Kogami was surrounded on every side, but he had his ways. He didn't need a gun to kill. One guy even blew a hole in the road, but that could barely cause a flinch. He managed to knock the white vehicle to its side until it presumably fell off the side of the road. He couldn't care less.

More dangers met him as he plunged through a construction site. Without a care in the world, a pack of motorcycles followed him like bait. As carelessly as the one before, the many tried to ignite flames to the road and blow him away. How could he possibly give a fuck? There was nothing to stop this passionate man. Navigating his way out of danger, these gang members fell in their own traps and died by their own explosions. Serves them right, he thought.

The whole event looked like a demolition project. Whether he was driving through the open or a secret passage, on the highway or through the city, Kogami left his tracks like no other. Just as expected, he was followed everywhere. Regardless, he could handle it. He showed no signs of broken skin, a broken heart or soul. As long as the day had been, however, the job was still left to be done in its entirety. That night, he would have to drive through the open city to complete his business. He could see the ending quite clearly.

About damn time. It's been a long day, but I won't feel sorry when it's all over.

Following a hot trail, Kogami kept his foot glued to his accelerator, bumping the speed incredibly high. Little to his surprise, he pursued a hefty gang member who would drive through buildings and closed spaces without a care. In that case, Kogami had to be a little more careful with the civilians around him. On the other hand, he could hardly be hindered as his hopes finally rose. However, after one particularly sharp turn, he rammed the front of his car into another, causing him to flip. He had no awareness of where he ended until turning to his left.

There they are. They are responsible for this.

A big bald guy prepped to beat him to death, but Kogami read him, jumping out of his car and to his feet. He saw the white van behind and rammed him in the chest, knocking him over to escape into the van. His fury was sparked again, and it boiled within him as he turned the keys. Starting up the van, he drove furiously after the gang leader, knocking her giant henchman off the windshield. He drove down the narrow pathway, keeping his eyes on the goal. All around him, obstacles blew up around him, but this was the most his blood had boiled. Nothing could keep him from making himself clear. From the top of her van, the gang leader shot at Kogami. Nonetheless, at fully accelerated speed, he rammed behind her, causing her initial undoing. Her vehicle blew, and she went with it.

It was quite a day, and Kogami was unsure of how he felt after it had all happened so quickly. He dragged himself out of the white van, taking a moment to breathe. It seemed that he had saved his breath all day, feeling too overwhelmed to relax. After looking to the night sky, he pulled the gold ring out of his pocket and turned his attention to it. It only reminded him of you.

You were truly his life, his heart. Without even paying heed to how you met, how you fell in love, it was true love. He could hardly trace it back himself, seeing that you two had always worked together, and he couldn't say for sure if love at first sight really existed. For a while, he debated over his feelings, often knowing that he couldn't always understand himself. He would not risk making himself look desperate before you, but he wondered if the feelings of love and desperation had some similarities. That didn't matter anymore when he discovered you were in love with him. When he was able to give in, he knew that no one else made him feel complete like you did. That changed his life, and that was why the two of you were married as soon as possible. Still, he asked himself if it was soon enough--the best day of his life easily became the worst. That is when it happened. Without explanation or warning, these gangs followed you and Kogami on the highway, and the accident happened. You lost your life, and Kogami lost you and, with you, his feeling of completion. For the longest time, he doubted that he could ever feel sadness, love, and passion. Nonetheless, the brief moment he had you forever and the brief moment he lost you forever proved otherwise. You were his motivation for doing the most devastating, and yet most satisfying course of action he would ever take in his life.

I did it because I love you. Can you hear me? I love you…

Kogami remembered all these things when he saw your ring in his hand and then clinched it tight in his fist. Seeing the fire behind him, he felt that his work was done, and he walked away through the city at night.


	28. Nicotine

[Kogami x Reader]

The taste of nicotine, an odd, peppery sting, a burn constantly spreading across his taste buds, tinging his throat and lungs with every inhale; it was a familiar, even comforting taste Kogami could never get enough of. Instinctively, his fingers grasped the crushed packet of cigarettes, and one by one, he breathed in each particle, bit by bit, until troublesome thoughts and emotions were numbed by their power.

A ragged breath, parted lips silenced by another, teeth digging into sensitive skin, imprints of red and blue melding into one; it was something unique and different, a sensation stronger than the burn of a cigarette - the taste of your mouth against his own. Pleasure jolted through his limbs like an electrical current. Heat engulfed him, pulse quickening, air stopping in the base of his throat, your taste mixing with the familiar taste of nicotine.

Losing control...

One more drag...

You were worse than nicotine,

but it was addiction he would never break free from,

or ever choose to.


	29. Captivate

[Makishima x Kidnapped!Reader]

“And thus concludes our tale of Beauty and the Beast...”

The book closed with a soft tick, and he leaned against his arms with a sigh. A ruffle of his snowy hair, a clearing of his throat, he smiled at you gently before placing a hand on your head, carefully cradled in his lap.

You glanced up at him.

“Read it to me again, Makishima,” you said almost in a whisper.

A quiet, airy chuckle seeped through his lips as he swiftly brushed away loose strands of your hair.

“Really now,” he replied. “Again? Are you not weary of his particular story?”

You simply shook your head.

“How can one tire of their favorite story?” you tapped the rim of the book beneath his palm.

“This may be true,” he said in turn. “But, you are exhausted, little one, as am I,” lightly gripping your shoulder, he guided you from his lap to the plush pillow at the end of the bed, allowing your head to sink into the softness. “You must sleep.”

With a quick sigh, you burrowed yourself beneath the velvety blankets, allowing the warmth to encircle you. He rose. He stretched his long and lithe limbs, and you watched his every movement. Rain pattered softly against the small, glass portal to the outside world at your bed, drops streaking, distorting the city lights into illuminated patterns. The outline of the trees bent to the will of the wind. The life you once knew seemed so distant, a muddled dream, much like the rain water clouding your view of the city below.

He took you away from it all; the constant scanning, the companion AIs, the false sustenances, the holographic attire, the inability to express oneself freely, every little piece of information so easily accessible with just a search and a click, the growing burden of becoming the perfect citizen. He turned you away from this joke of a utopia, concealing you within the confinements of his sanctuary. So quickly did it happen, you were given no chance to really say yes or no to such a decision.

At first, it terrified you. For a moment, you were engulfed in darkness as cold, nimble fingers cover your mouth and a cold needle delved into your veins, robbing you of your senses. Dragging yourself back into the realms of reality, confused, lost in a fog, a million and one questions screamed at you: how, why, when, who, too many to keep track of, and all causing your blood to rush and breath to shorten.

But, you knew his scent all too well.

His voice was embedded into your subconscious, preventing you from ever forgetting.

You knew who it was that stole you away,

and as time passed on, as minutes turned into hours, hours into days, days into weeks, all blending together into an ever present moment at his side, you no longer cared to discover the answer to those questions.

He tended to your needs, bringing you fresh food and clothes. He stayed at your side, sharing old stories long forgotten by society, the ideas structuring his plans and actions, until you drifted into sleep. He left behind books, music, art, all old fashioned forms of entertainment for you to occupy yourself with while he was away. So much did you learn from him. So delight were you in his company,

that how you arrived in this little lair of his in the first place suddenly mattered not to you anymore. All of those questions badgering you from fear silenced altogether,

and you craved nothing more than his time and attention.

He captivated you in ways not even the great story tellers of olden days could describe. Hell, even you failed to comprehend as to why you desired a man who snatched you away from the normal life you established for yourself.

Perhaps that thrill and excitement sparked these twisted longings?

Perhaps you wished all along to be stolen away from that mundane routine?

No matter what the reasons were, you were more than willing to stay under his surveillance, in his shadow, under his control, if that was what meant.

You no longer cared.

His company was all you longed for.

As you settled yourself into your bed, he placed himself next to you once more, tucking in the blankets, securing your comfort and warmth. Little gestures like these always made your heart flutter ever so slightly; they spoke more volumes than a thousand books. Dark circles weighted his soft pools of amber yet a small smile still graced his features. Gingerly placing his fingertips along your cheeks, his said in a voice like silk,

“If you wish, I shall read to you earlier than usual, and I’ll stay until you sleep,” his thumb dragged along your lower lip, the simple touch sending tingles down your spine. “Will that be alright?” 

With a smile in return, you simply nod. Before he had a chance to make any other movement, you pressed his hand into your cheek, entwining your fingers with his. He gazed at you, hesitating, pondering on what his next action should be, until you sighed and closed your eyes. With a clipped chuckle, he leaned in close and lightly brushed his lips across your forehead. Speaking nothing else, he hummed. It was a quiet even melancholy tune. You knew not whether it came from another man’s work or from the corridors of his complex mind, not that it mattered at all. Combining his voice with the heat of his presence and his slow, meticulous touches, you felt more at peace in just that moment than you ever had in your lifetime.

It was all thanks to this mysterious figure, your captor, your guardian,

and all you had to do was toss aside your logic and give yourself to him.


	30. Embrasse-Moi

[Pornstar!Kogami x Pornstar!Reader] AU

_“The problem is...if I kissed you, I don’t think I’d be able to stop.”_

You promised yourself you would never share a kiss.

Until you could cut loose from the knot of your job, you would guard your heart, even if it meant breaking someone else’s.

Despite your more or less unfortunate profession, that proved to be surprisingly easy. Most pornography never really focussed on extensive foreplay, romance, or seduction of any kind. 

That wasn’t what viewers wanted. 

It mattered little whether or not the two actors had some kind of chemistry or connection - just as long as one body part fit into the other, that was good enough.

At least it didn’t require meticulous hours of rehearsal and editing. 

At least it didn’t require pretending to fall in love with your partner.

Nothing more but a rolling camera, tossing aside every hint of pride and human dignity, and endurance to get through one or two takes was all it took.

Though it wasn’t exactly what you hoped for yourself, it provided a decent pay for you to settle your rent and crippling debt. 

For so long, this thought kept disappointment from completely crushing you. This alone prevented you from sinking into the ocean of chagrin you sailed over.

That was until you met him.

You promised yourself not to grant anyone a kiss.

You promised never to engage yourself in such personal contact with another.

_”So soft...,” he said with a breathy chuckle._

_”Don’t embarrass me, Shinya.”_

_”You’re smiling though.”_

_”Tch, don’t give yourself too much credit.”_

_”You don’t be so stingy and come here. Come closer.”_

Shinya Kogami.

You were familiar with his name when you started. Directors wanted him. Other actors wanted him. Audiences wanted him. How could they not? He proved easy to work with, good at his job, not to mention devilishly handsome. With feline, grey eyes, messy, jet black hair, and a body to die for, if sex appeal were personified, he would be it. 

It was pure luck for you to be chosen to work with him. Despite having heard nothing but positive things about him, you couldn’t help but feel sick to your stomach. Crossing the set to greet him for the first time sent your brain into overdrive, reeling at light speed, your stomach to rot, and your blood vessels to constrict with fear. But, as he shook your hand, introducing himself to you, your heart practically tripped over itself as he smiled. With the shooting of each scene, he never missed a moment to crack a lame joke or two, throw you a compliment, or laugh at his mistakes in between takes. Despite the horrid, script writing, he made the most of what he was given, making each word at least somewhat believable. 

And just when you believed to have mastered the art of faking through your sex scenes, against all odds, he managed to play you like a piano. Throughout the film, he lightly touched you in sensitive places, sending tingles down your spine. He whispered seductively in your ears during lulls to stimulate your senses. And for once, in your entire career, he actually waited for you to finish off, instead of leaving you a disgusting mess, grumpy, and unsatisfied, and he always made sure to thank you when his turn came. It actually made the experience a lot less uncomfortable than what you were used to.

In all honesty, you never expected this sort of behavior. Here he was, the walking symbol of allure, and he took every moment to act just the opposite.

And it only captured your heart even more. 

Your defenses shattered, and all it took was one smile. 

You promised yourself you wouldn’t fall under someone’s spell.

You promised to save yourself the agony of falling for someone at work. 

You promised yourself never to kiss anyone.

But, what you realized with Kogami, with this beautiful idiot you spent only a few precious weeks with filming,

he didn’t have to kiss you in order to fall in love with him.

_”Don’t turn away,” he said, running his fingertip down your jaw._

_”I can’t help it.”_

_”Look at me,” he gently turned your face to meet his silvery hues, clouded with desire. “I want to see those pretty eyes.”_

The space between you two decreased little by little, the tips of your nosesa barely brushing. His finger continued to run gently down the line of your jaw - up, down, up, down - a soothing rhythm, calming the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. His gaze seem to follow the curve of your lips, as if to memorize every line, every curl and peak. The warm breath once heating your face hitched a moment as he glanced up at you, watching for any kind of rejection or discomfort. Then, your breath caught as you returned his stare. Every part of your body quivered with anticipation. 

The edges of your lips skimmed one another. 

A spark ignited.

He pressed a little closer and took a moment to examine your mouth’s silky touch in a small, steady motions, the air between you almost nonexistent. Though not a complete kiss, you still loved this curious caress. It allowed you to familiarize with the feel of his lips against yours - swollen, a little dry, a little tickling - the mix of his natural scent melding with the subtle cologne radiating off his skin, strands of black hair against your cheek and forehead, an occasional hum reverberating in his throat. Tentatively, you reached out and rested a hand on his cheek, dragging your thumb below his eyes. 

Finally, emitting a long sigh into your mouth, he eliminates all possible airways between you and engages you in that most intimate of dances between lovers, a language spoken with no words, the one device that could break down all defenses. 

Simple movements, an occasional dragging of his teeth over your bottom lip, the tips of your tongues meeting for only a second before retreating back, your tastes exchanged, this kiss sealed the deal for you. 

You promised yourself you wouldn’t kiss anyone.

You had been told a thousand times by friends and coworkers anything went in your industry but a kiss was far too familiar and intimate, completely against protocol. 

There was no turning back now, not with Kogami.

Your heart was in his hands now.

But, in the end, you were fine with that.

So, you promised yourself not to kiss anyone.

Now, you’d be kissing him a thousand time, until you couldn’t breathe anymore.

You’d be kissing him until you knew everything there was to know and then take every moment to savor every detail. 

And you’d never get tired of it.

_”Hey, not bad eh?” he said with a wink._

_”Oh, stop that,” you replied, batting his shoulder._

_”What? Your cheeks are pink.”_

_Unable to conceal your grin, you simply took a handful of his hair and drew him back close to you._

_”Just shut up and kiss me.”_


	31. Healer

[Soldier!Kogami x Nurse!Reader]

[Reader's POV]

_Just another ordinary day,_ I think to myself.

Two patients moan in a chorus of pain as a two nurses bandage their oozing wounds. Another screams in agony as he is pinned down by two, very reluctant nurses as the doctor slides a syringe into his brachial artery. Another shouts at any every warm body passing by to give him another dose of his medicine. Occasionally bodies covered in filthied sheets are dragged away by solemn faces.

Blood. Death. Infection. Screaming. Moaning. Bodily fluids. 

Be it the ICU or the secret base of the SEAU terrorists, a nurse’s atmosphere always remains the same. From an immaculate, sterilized room to a few tents set outside old, crumbling ruins, I function just about the same. Sweat trickles down the side of my brows as I hustle from bed to bed, wrapping arms, holding hands, compressing open wounds, tying tourniquets, then standing there realizing I have yet to eat anything, my head’s spinning, I shove down the nearest eatable substance, until I’m back at it again, and all the hours blur together. 

Despite the emotional drainage, despite the disturbing sights and unsettling atmosphere, I really take pride in this work. I know, no matter how trifling a task might seem, it makes a difference for someone.

And I would not trade it for the world.

Nonetheless, the heavy bags beneath my eyes, the swollen capillaries within the whites of my eyes, my spine all hunched, and my yawns incorporated into every conversations compose an outfit of my fatigue. Even a high quality sleep couldn’t rid me of the tiredness, and it isfinally taking its tole. From occasionally snapping at innocent bystanders to my turmoil to crying at the drop of a hat, I am finally desperate for some kind of relief, some kind of healing of my own.

But, who is responsible for the doctors and nurses when they fall ill?

Who heals the healers?

That is a question ever reeling in my mind as I examine my hands reeking with the metallic stench of blood. 

_Almost done,_I think, bandaging the last wound on the whimpering soldier.

Suddenly, a rough, sweaty hand comes to my wrist. 

“Am...Am I going to be okay?” he asks, voice cracking, eyes swollen and red. 

Warfare comes with injuries, and these anxieties come with the territory. I simply smile, touch the top of his hand, and reply,

“Your wounds were shallow, and your muscular injuries minor. You’ll make a smooth recovery.”

The muscles in his face relax. His eyes close, and his hand falls to his side. 

“Thanks, nurse,” he breathes rather than speaks

With a quick nod, I turn for the opening of the tent through which the rays of the sun push through and greet me. It feels wonderful to fill my nasal passages with relatively fresh hair instead of the man musk, blood, and rotting tissue. Dirt, vegetation, smoke from nearby fire pits prove as a much better substitute. Rubbing the filth from my hands with the towel draped over my shoulder, I meander through the murmuring refugees, medical team, and soldiers with little to no damage. Those who make eye contact with me move from my path. 

Clean water and soap. 

That is all I want.

At the least, any water would do. 

Just as I deem my current search futile, a voice catches my attention:

“Need a little help, nurse?” 

I find messy black hair, grey eyes, the familiar aroma of cigarette smoke.

_Shinya Kogami._

My lips curve into a thin smirk.

“Wouldn’t happen to have any water on you?” I inquire.

As a reply, a bucket of water is flopped at my side, suds clumping at the rims as they bubble and trickle down the rusted metal.

I manage a low chuckle.

“You thought of everything, huh,” I proceed to dunk my hands into the warm water, rubbing vigorously at the invisible predators creeping along my skin’s surface. I crinkle my nose at the pungent odor still lingering in my clothes. 

“Another long day, huh?” Kogami more states rather than asks. With a clink, a flick of his thumb, and a spark of flame, he lights another cigarette and balances it between his fingers.

I simply roll my eyes in turn.

“Nothing unusual,” I reply, flicking the excess droplets from my hand. 

“Blood, guts, and screaming, right?” he chuckles and inhales the fumes from the cigarette.

However, I find no strength in me to return the laugh. True, I am accustomed to the madness of medicine, and I could leave the most gruesome of scenes without batting an eyelash. Despite the callouses I managed to form, somedays, very rare days, I return to my bed with a revolving mind and an aching heart. Seeing so many soldiers fighting for a cause with no results, mothers and wives weeping for their husbands and sons, children crying for their wounded fathers and brothers, the hope of the sickly elders dwindling each day can do a number on one.

It is a battlefield in its own rite: a battle for my sanity.

Kogami’s hand suddenly encircles my shoulder as he guides me down the brick path of the temple. 

“Wha-?”

“Come with me,” is all he says before falling silent again, releasing a thin strand of smoke from his lips.

Pressing my mouth to a line, I lower my line of sight to the cracked pavement beneath my feet. 

_Best not argue...,_ I think.

The trees rustle to the slow rhythm of the wind, and a low thunder rumbles in the distance as thick, dark clouds begin to billow along the horizon. The shouts of children resonate as they scrambled back to their designated shelters. Inaudible conversations between civilians hover in the already thick, humid atmosphere. 

Funny; the weather seems to correlate perfectly to how I feel,

and I’m not sure if I want to laugh or cry at the irony.

“Here we are,” Kogami once against derails my train of thought as I realize he has lead you to his haven, a large room within the ruins concealed with a thick, olive, green fabric, durable for all whether situations.

With a small nod, I lift the opening and follow. A lantern, resting in the middle of a small, wooden table, is already lit, and the flickering flame seems to welcome me to these lodgings. 

Honestly, despite the heavy smell of smoke, I find no place better than this to find some peace. 

Already, he pulls out a chair.

“Drink?” he asks. 

“Yeah, sounds good,” I say with a yawn.

“Tea, coffee, water, or whiskey?”

Again, I pull off a tired laugh.

“Man, you really do think of everything, huh."

“Eh, I figured might as well take the essentials.”

“Whiskey, then.”

“You got it.”

Already the tension from my day starts to creep out of the muscles in my shoulders. A glass filled with amber fluid slides to my side, and he places himself across from me. I take a moment to inhale the oaky aroma before letting that familiar burn travel down my throat. 

Kogami watches a moment before following my example. 

“Ahhhhhh....”

Perfectly in unison.

“That’s the stuff,” I hum and sip again.

“Nothing a little whiskey can’t fix, right?”

I respond with yet another gulp.

Resting his chin in his hand, he falls silent, dragging his finger round the edge of his cup. His eyes seemed to follow my every move from the rapping of my fingers on the table, the occasional nibbling on my bottom lip, to the furrowing of my brows in intense thought. 

I have no way of hiding from him.

He’s known me since the day one of my joining this guerilla.

I was already a working nurse, running from my home, looking for something, anything to keep me occupied. 

How long has that been?

Damn, I can’t even remember.

I recall my years in Japan so clearly - the clean hospitals, the patients I worked with, my coworkers, my friends. I can only assume I became so fed up with the System and its treatment of the patients. 

Disagreeing with the System begins a downward spiral in one’s Crime Coefficient, which leads to being labeled as a Latent Criminal.

So, I ran.

With no particular destination in mind, I ran far away from the dictating network of brains and wires called Sybil, claiming to take away people’s freedom for the purpose of safety.

It is sheer luck I am where I am today. No place is peaceful. Every place is contaminated with war and destruction. 

And with my own country turned against me, nothing felt more terrifying than standing in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but bloodshed. 

Thankfully, I found myself deep into the bowels of South East Asia, Shamballa Float, and their own version of Sibyl. I found myself swallowed by the very monster I longed to run from. 

The rest just a blur; a fight breaking at the outskirts of the city, running from gunshots and explosions, and before I know it, I am thrown in a back of a truck being driven away in a panic. 

Those soldiers could have executed me. They had every reason to. I had no collar, no form of identification other than a couple of old, crushed licenses.

But, thanks to Kogami, I was brought to the base. After a short interrogation, I became one of the nurses on the medical team. Despite the lack of technology, I actually found purpose and meaning once again in my work. Through that, I was able to become more acquainted with Kogami through caring for his injuries to borrowing pieces of classic literature. I could come to him with any complaint, and he would have an answer for it, which would lead to conversations lasting late into the night. He taught me how to fight. He taught me how to use a gun, and in turn, I would give him medical advice. 

It’s a relationship I can’t live without now. 

But, that also means, I couldn’t keep to myself even if I want to.

And just as I slug a little more of my drink, I hear him ask.

“Anxious?”

_Damn it._

I refuse to look into his eyes at this point, almost like a bad kid getting caught.

“Wanna talk about it?”

I remain silent, still biting my lower lip and tapping my fingers on the glass. Once I notice the hint of salt glazing the tip of my tongue from my lip, I answer,

“There’s not really anything new to talk about. Just the scenes replaying in my head...”

Finally, I make the effort to look into his eyes. His expression is soft, and his cheek still rests in his palm, propped by his elbow.

“Just the same stuff,” I murmur. “Over and over...”

Suddenly, I notice a tear fall from my eyes, rippling the brown liquid; then, another falls, then another.

My heart leaps in my throat. Immediately, I turn my face and rub my eyes on my sleeve.

“Sorry,” I choke on my words. “Don’t know where that came from.”

But, before I can continue, I feel his hand rest gently on the top of my head, and I stop. We stay still a moment. I hone in on the warmth of his calloused skin against my hair and skin, the smell of the smoke, the smell of gasoline.

All so sweet and familiar...

“It’s okay,” he tells me. “You’re strong and doing really well.” 

Those words alone trigger another ragged sob to rip from my throat. 

“You’re doing a good job.

_“Don’t give up.”_

My pent up emotions run loose from my control, and all I can do is hold my face and sob, catching all the tears and nasal fluid on my fingers.

Disgusting, yes, but if it needs to happen, appearance doesn’t matter. 

As I remain hunched in my chair, sniveling to my heart’s content, I hear Kogami’s seat rattle and squeak as he pushes himself out and kneels in front of me. Despite their sloppy condition, he takes my hands into his and waits. I take a few deep breaths. I clear my throat and shake my head.

After one more long exhale, I laugh, 

“Sorry. I’m completely nasty now.” 

He shakes his head and gives me a small smile.

“Nah,” he replies, pulling me from my seat. “Believe me, I’ve seen worse.”

“Pffft, gee, thanks.”

He ruffles my hair, snickering.

“I didn’t necessarily mean you.”

He guides me to his sofa and drags me down with him. Without another word, I rest my head into his chest, already closing my eyes. I feel his fingertips tracing patterns along my scalp. His chest slowly rises, slowly deflates, his dog tags clinking over to the side.With his free hand, he props open a book and still keeps his steady motions along my head.

Finally, I can close my eyes, and let go of the dark moments of the day.

Sometimes, when overwhelmed, many of us nurses feel as though we have no source of escape and healing.

But, as I drift away, locked in this man’s embrace, I know I’ve found mine.


	32. Remedy

[Ginoza x Nurse!Reader]

[Reader's POV]

_“You’re going to be okay.”_

_Blood._

Splatters of crimson everywhere as we attempt to compress the injuries - this is the first thing I notice. 

The monotonous beeping of the heart monitor, lists of frantic orders from the doctor, the squeaking of the wheels on the gurney as we push it past its limits, my pulse throbbing from the arteries in my head to my palms, practically crushing what’s left of the poor man’s arm; all the sensory stimuli crash on me like an anvil, but I have no opening to run and hide. 

_Save him._

That message rattles every fiber of my nervous system, the jolts urging me to run faster. 

_Put him out of his pain._

_End his misery._

We finally burst through the doors of the nearest surgical room, and immediately, everyone scatters in an organized frenzy, gathering every required tool needed for this emergency. One of the nurses inserts an IV into his brachial artery.

I can’t tear myself away. I simply press harder into his torn shoulder in an attempt to prevent more blood loss. 

_Subclavian vein broken, multiple arteries torn deltoid and biceps brachii torn, infraspinatus and supraspinatus-_

Immediately crashing my rapid cycle of thoughts, I feel a hand grasp my forearm. I glance down to find the man, eyes squeezed shut, mouth clenched in a grimace, tears streaming down his pallid cheeks. 

Kneeling close to his face, keeping the pressure on the extreme bleeding, I say, my voice as stable as I can make,

“You’re going to be okay, sweetie.”

Slowly, his green eyes flutter open, lashes soaked with tears, scleras puffy and red. I see the scratches, bruises, and dirt sullying his face. His breathing turns slowly to wheezing the faster he inhales, the air whistling the tighter his larynx constricts. 

Adding hyperventilation to the blood loss could increase his chances of hypovolemic shock.

Much to my relief, another nurse takes over compression. The physician follows her lead, syringe and forceps in hand. I am forced to the other side of the gurney, yet despite the jolting, the patient still clings to me, nails now digging into my skin through my scrubs. 

Finally, I can clasp his hand into my own, his grip still strong. His eyes never leave me, despite the obstruction of the surgical mask. Moving a piece of black hair from his eyes, I tell him gently,

“Take a deep breath. You’re going to be okay.”

He still wheezes. Another nurse mixes herself into the chaos, as they attempt to salvage what’s left of his arm. The numbers on the monitor increase. 

_Tachycardia,_ I assume, and I alert the doctor. 

The patient still looks at me with tear filled eyes. 

_I can’t believe he’s still conscious..._

He suddenly screams. His free hand starts to thrash, and the doctor demands a sedative. When I glance at the scene, I see the bloodied pieces of the limb tangling from the edges as excess blood is suctioned. Without another thought, I take his hand still being flung by its angry owner. 

Clean. Stick. Drip. 

The IV gets replaced, and I increase the dosage. 

Sweat trickles down his forehead as he lies still for a moment.

Finally, his heart rate stabilizes a little, though still rapid, and his breathing steadies.

“You’re going to be okay,” I say again, still holding down his arm.

Again, he looks at me, as a sick child might look at his mother, with pain and longing, with hope maybe she would hold a magic pill to end his pain. Slowly but surely, his lids grow heavy. 

“You’re in good hands.”

“We have you.”

“You’re going to be okay.”

Finally, he closes his eyes.

_”You’re going to be okay...”_

Another shift done, and I find myself leaning against the wall, burying my face in my hands. 

This wasn’t my first trip to the ER. In fact, I couldn’t even call it the worst I’ve witnessed, but I couldn’t seem to get that patient out of my mind. No question about it, his hue was cloudier than than a sea during a storm. His arm looked as though it had literally been torn from its socket. The logo of the MWPSB was embroidered on the soiled jacket, indicating his rank as an inspector. 

And those eyes.

Those hypnotizing, emerald eyes, filled to the brim with tears, eyes pleading for some kind of comfort or escape from his suffering...

What just happened? 

What had he seen? What did he just go through to lead him to this state?

Inspectors and enforcers deal with the worst of the worst, the scum of the city. Dangers of every kind waited with their jaws open for any of the unsuspecting police attempting to track them and drag them to prison. 

This could have been a case gone completely wrong, but who am I to ask? 

I can’t. 

I’m just a nurse after all. 

I take care of the patients to the best of my ability. 

No questions asked. 

I meander through the sterile halls. Occasionally, a bewail from a distraught patient resonates within the walls. Not unusual at this time of night. I walk by a nurse on the night shift, pushing a tray with food. 

Then, I stop before the door - his door. I figure maybe I can check one more time before returning home. After all, he is one of my patients. 

Flashbacks of the ER replay in my mind, and I hesitate. I graze my fingertips over the edge of the door. Simultaneously, my heart increases its rate.

If he’s awake, what do I say? What excuse do I come up with? The wounds? Maybe the medication? 

If he’s asleep, then what? I can’t ask him anything. I can’t talk to him.

Why am I even here in the first place?

_Ginoza Nobuchika._

_Complete amputation distal to acromial region._

_Crime Coefficient: 140_

As a nurse, this is all I need to know at this point.

Why...?

I smack my forehead to cease this cycle of pointless anxiety. Before another thought can pop into my head, I scan my ID, and the door whizzes open. Of course, his eyes immediately dart over to me as the portal closes. I freeze as our eyes lock a moment. Dark circles sink into his skin, his cheekbones only making them more hollow. In place of his left arm is heavy gauze packing the wound. Flecks of blue and purple dark speckle his pale chest and neck. 

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I say,

“Just needed to do one more round before going home.”

Instead of replying with words, he sighs and turns away, as if awaiting my next move. 

_Okay, so far, so good._

I meander over to the IV: still secure in his right arm, still dripping accordingly, still the correct dosage. I sit myself at his left side to check the dressing. As my hands remain busy, I examine his movements. His expression remains the same, except for an occasional wince of discomfort. If I attempt to ask his condition, he says nothing and continues to stare into his abyss. 

_He’ll definitely go into treatment..._

It hurts me to think that. I despise those facilities for the latent criminal. Everything to me is wrong, and I even wonder if they’re truly meant to keep those crime coefficients the same. 

It's like a terrible game. Once your hue becomes cloudy, it's game over, and no hope remains of returning to a normal life.

After all, every latent criminal is destined to become a killer, right?

_Bullshit._

But, no one questions the System; not even experts in medicine. 

“There,” I mutter, tying the last bandage. “That should keep secure for the rest of the night.”

Silence. 

I wait.

Still nothing. 

Just the same blank expression. 

A quick breath of air escapes my nose.

_Figures..._

He didn’t know me. I didn’t know him.

He never saw me past the surgical mask.

Why would he say anything to me? 

With a small cough and a stretch of my neck, I tell him, 

“Rest well. Try not to move too much. Call the nurses if you need.” 

Despite the hint of disappointment in my heart, I could rest easy. I did my part even if the reception was lacking. 

After all, I’m just a nurse. 

Just when I think my work to be done, I feel his hand encircle my wrist. My heart stops for a moment, and his breath trembles as he exhales. When I glance back, I see it, that face so engrained into my memory from the ER - the tears down his face, the gritting of his teeth, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. 

Strangely enough, I feel a hint of indescribable relief. 

I settle myself at his side once again, taking his hand between mine. 

“Hey,” I whisper. 

He swallows as tears continue to roll then sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. 

One thing I know, despite knowing as little as I do, the pain deep inside outweighed tenfold the cuts, bruises, and even the amputation. 

No amount of bandaging could patch a broken heart.

“It’s gonna be okay,” I say. 

It’s all I know to say. 

“It’s gonna be okay.”

With many of my patients, in their darkest hours, this is all they need to hear. 

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“You’re gonna be okay.”

It becomes a little mantra. 

Even if it makes me look silly, if it helps him, that’s all that matters. 

His cold, clammy hand still grasps my own but relaxed now. His chest slowly rises and falls. His eyes are closed, and the tension in his face melts away. 

The longer I watch him sleep, the more my heart warms, and I stay a little longer, holding his hand, just for that reassurance. 

Nurses may not receive the same attention and revere as doctors and physicians have.

But, sometimes, they give the right kind of remedies no one else can.


	33. Facile

[Makishima x Nurse!Reader]

_It’d be so easy..._

_Here, in the dark, where no one else can see..._

_He deserves it, right?_

_No one would miss a decrepit pervert like him, right?_

Your eyes fixate on the razor blade placed gingerly between your fingers, the warped reflection of the waning moon’s sickle curl glimmering at its center. Your thumb very slowly, very lightly, drags along the edge. 

_So sharp._

_Just a quick slice, and it’d be over..._

_Quick with little pain, right?_

_And it’d be an appropriate punishment..._

_It’d be so easy._

This metal so finely finished could cut down into the dermis, the thickened rim of the hyoid, the veins and arteries, every little myofibril of each muscle. The slit in his larynx would fill with blood. He would gasp for air as blood spurts from his mouth.

Your heart leaps in your throat, and your breath catches midway. 

Why are you thinking like this?

It is your job to help the sick and do no harm.

No matter how difficult the patient.

_Gorou Hyata. Age: 53. Profession: Figurehead in the Ministry of Health and Welfare. Diagnosed with Stage II lung cancer, worsened due to smoking. Currently undergoing chemotherapy._

Such a terrible place to be in, one you would never wish on your worst enemy.

But, how _tired_ you grew of his constant demands. Every other 5 minutes, he pressed the buzzer just for meaningless errands, some obviously detrimental to his health, some contrary to the orders of the doctors. 

Then, his comments, his inappropriate comments on your attire, began to increase. You brushed it off, having dealt with flirtatious patients, but you knew they meant well. 

This man obviously had other intentions in mind. 

What started as every now and then became every other week. What became every other week became every week, which became every other day. Then, he attempted touching in personal areas. 

But, you were in no position to fight back.

After all, he was a patient. You were the nurse.

It was your job to care for the sick and do no harm.

No matter how difficult the patient.

So, you let it happen.

You hated it.

You never felt so filthy.

But, wasn’t it just part of the job...?

Slim, nibble fingers encircle your wrist as you stared expressionless through the contorted window of your mind. Frigid lips press into the shell of your ear. Your body - no - your entire being seems to be engulfed by this snowy, silver-tongued specter. 

“Here,” his velvety voice hypnotizes you with only one word. “The only tool you’d ever need to redeem your shattered purity.”

A salty film glazes your eyes. Anxiety tugs at your muscles, causing your hands to tremble. 

“One simple swipe at his common corotid artery,” he slowly guides your hand creating a horizontal sweep. “A few moments of pain, and his lifeline is cut.”

“I see...”

A moment of silence hangs in the air as he urges you closer to the bedside. You examine the older man’s face, wrinkles embedded into his leathery skin. Tubes feed oxygen through his nostrils, and an IV supplies needed nutrients systemically. Bones and veins protrude through the thinning flesh of his arms and neck. 

_Pathetic, really..._

“Is it not tragic? Is it not pathetic seeing one with such an engorged ego dismantled to such a pitiable state?”

His words manage to mirror your thoughts.

_How does he know...?_

Releasing your wrist from his grip, he then places his hand on the small of your back, urging you just a little closer. 

“I have bestowed the tools upon you,” he says. “The choice is yours.”

_My choice..._

You never knew one simple visit to the library would completely alter the course of your path, a spark of color in the monochromatic painting you called life. Just a simple search for a medical history book, a turn into the literature section,

and there he stood,

perfect, composed, etherial,

as if he waited for you.

_Shogo Makishima._

Hair of snow, eyes of gold, alabaster skin, you swore you stepped into the presence of an angel. 

A small nod, a quick hello, and you were baited and reeled in immediately. 

Hours were spent discussing similar interests in literature, in art, in music, most of which the Sibyl System deemed to hazardous for the average hue. As you accompanied him on the streets, your conversation delved into the flaws of the System and its master control over society. He seemed surprised that you agreed with so many of his ideals; you, who worked in a position of medicine. 

Just as you became enthralled with his aura, he came intrigued with your cognitive workings and your state.  
When everyone else gladly followed the illusion created by Sibyl, you found hope and clarity in his ideas. You wanted to follow him. You wanted to assist him in his rebellion, even at the cost of others.

But, could you inflict harm on others?

Could you flush out lives for a cause, let alone cut the lives of your enemies short?

After all, you have always been programed to do otherwise...

_Preserve life. Do no harm._

In the words of Makishima, the best of changes came at the cost of bending the rules, of turning against the rulers. Most importantly, no change can come without a price,

be it for society or one person.

Could you do it?

Could you bend your own rules for the sake of society?

Moreover, could you for the sake of your own dwindling dignity?

Pressing your lips together, palms starting to sweat, your eyes fixate on his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. He hums, stirs, and then falls still again.

_It’d be so simple..._

_Just one simple movement, and it’d be over..._

Your body trembles. You kneel at the bedside. You can feel those eyes, beautiful and cold, scrutinizing your movements.

Your eyes never leave your target, and you position the blade at the center of his throat.

_This is for the best...No one will miss him._

_He is a disgusting human being._

_But, a human being, all the same..._

Biting your lip, you turn and look away.

Who are you to decide who is to live or die? You are human. You are mortal. You sin. What makes you so special to have obtained such a lofty position?

You rise, and your hands fall to your sides. Your eyes start to burn, and your heart slows.

“No, this is wrong,” you whisper.

Makishima tilts his head.

“I am no god,” you continue, looking at the razor, glistening with your perspiration. “Even if I hate someone, that doesn’t mean I should end another’s life...not like this...”

However, as you turn away from your sleeping patient to face Makishima, tears roll down your cheeks. His brows furrow with more confusion than anything.

You are so certain this is the right decision, yet you weep.

Did you really want him to die that much?

You suppose, in the darkest places of your heart, yes, you did.

You want to salvage the traces of sanity you have left, the pride that crumbled, your love for your work that dwindled, all because of that man.

Much to your surprise, a cool palm rests on your cheek. His thumb softly drags away an escaping tear.

“If this is your final decision,” he says. “let me not sway you. If you desire one more chance to ponder this, I shall wait.”

Drying your eyes with the sleeve of your scrubs, you nod and turn back to the man for one last look. Again, you scan his face, his neck, his chest, his arms, the equipment attached to him. You think of the horrid, humiliating memories connected to him, the feelings he stirred in you. You think of everything Makishima has ever told you. You think of your time as a nurse, both the joys and the pains, and the pleasure you hold in the work.

_Preserve life. Do no harm._

_The System cares not for the likes of a lowly nurse, even at the cost of a cloudy Psycho Pass._

_No change comes without a price._

Blade still clutched, slowly, steadily, you raise your hand...

_It’ll be easy..._

_At least...it should have been..._


	34. Addiction

[Kogami x Inspector!Reader]

“You okay?”

As the fan above you swirls monotonously, sweat sticks to the contours of your body, and you wipe droplets streaming down your temples with the back of your hand. Your chest attempts to contain the vigorous pounding of your heart and the rushing of your blood. Tingling sensations stretch to every nerve through your trembling form before you inhale, and sink back into the coolness of your sheets. Kogami rustles at your side, sliding into some loose sweatpants, then reaching for the pack of cigarettes and the lighter at the bedside table. The soft, yellow light of the lamp paints golden streaks within his jet black hair and a glow around his pale, clammy skin. A flick of his thumb and a click, a flicker of fire, the red flare of the burning paper and acetic acid, and the flame is gone, leaving behind the smell of smoke and nicotine. You settle yourself against the downy pillows and watching as he releases a thin strand of smoke.

You tilt your head.

“Sorry?”

After taking one more inhale, letting the grey cloud escape his mouth, he shifts back to you, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You okay?” he says.

Hugging your knees to your chest, you rest your cheek against your leg, taking a minute to wait as the small billow vanishes, that strong but oddly comforting scent dissipating within the air. 

This proves to be a tougher question to answer than you realize. Chief Kasei continues pressuring you and your Division to hurry with your case. The lost lives of the innocent wander in the back of your mind, and the stress only causes their souls to shriek louder for justice. 

Not often have you been stumped by a case, but every job comes with those joyous perks. 

But, that just means coming home, night after night, head still aching from the day and the unease still weighing heavy on your heart.

If anything, you could at least be anxious with Kogami. It at least fills that hole for a little while.

With a quick sigh, you nod.

“Yeah,” you place a kiss on the back of his hand. “I feel good.”

With a small smile and a little peck to your temple, he goes back to stretching on his back, grey eyes glazing over into a trance-like state, taking in his cigarette one at a time until nothing but a stub remained. Almost robotically, he reaches for his stash and proceeds with the same ritual. 

It’s an addiction. 

You know it. 

He knows it. 

In fact, he has admitted to it without batting an eyelash.

But, you clearly see no sign of his quitting anytime soon. Perhaps it’s the calming the monotony of the movements, that stemming which eased the chaos within his mind. Maybe it’s the fogging of his mind only the nicotine could give. Whatever the specifics, the unfortunate dependency distracts him from his carnival of cyclic thoughts.

It’s why no matter what negative opinion you hold towards the act of smoking, you can’t bring yourself to tell him. 

Besides, even you find a little pleasure in the burning aroma. 

More than likely, you associate it so much with Kogami, and anything that has even the slightest connection to him calms your own, silent disquiet.

His eyes never leave you. His elbow rests against his knee, and his cigarette rests gingerly between his index and middle finger. Your eyes shift from the weight of his gaze, and the tension rising within you forces out a weak, shaky laugh.

“What?” you scratch at your hair. “Something wrong?”

“Nah,” he replies as he places his thumb on your brow. “You’re just really bad at lying.”

Pressing your lips together, you turn away from him. 

“Know it all, huh?” you grumble before placing your head against your pillow. 

“Only with you, babe.”

Suddenly, his entire weight collapses and engulfs your body, ripping a loud yelp from your throat. 

_”Shinya!_ The hell-!”

“Come oooooon,” you feel a mess of coarse, black hair tickle your neck as he nuzzles you. “Loser.”

“_I’m_ the loser?” yet, the longer you swallow your giggles, the more they break out. 

“Yes,” he retorts, nipping the skin below your ear. “You are.” 

In between fits of laughter, you bat the back of his head, murmuring,

“You dumb hound.”

“Nng.” 

With you on your back now, Kogami drapes himself over you, melting into you. He remains completely still, except for his propped arm, with his cigarette still in tact, though a little diminished. Tiny flecks of ash float down to the edge of the bed, and you deeply inhale, taking in as much of that aroma as you can.

And the webs of thought spun by that little spider known as anxiety are dusted away.

Fingertips trailing up and down the length of your arm, his lips softly press into the space of skin over your heart, fluttering with delight. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he mutters. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Again, you inhale and exhale, slowly, making sure you can even taste it.

“I know,” you say, mindlessly drawing invisible patterns into his hair.

With a low hum, rumbling his chest, he crushes the end of his last smoke between his palm, letting his arm fall and resting them comfortably about you. 

A smile stretches across your lips, and your muscles become slack, become one with the blankets once again. The warmth of his skin, the softness of his hair, and of course, the odd perfume of him mixing with the nicotine, everything about this man, only recognized as a hunting dog by the Sibyl System, puts you at ease, rids you of your turmoil.

Despite his obvious addiction to cigarettes, what everyone fails to realize is your addiction: 

your addiction to him.

And it’s one you’re not going to quit any time soon.


	35. Fractured

[Kogami x Inspector!Reader]

_”I don’t wanna die here.”_

_”Not in a place like this.”_

_”I refuse to die here!”_

Heart pounding, palms sweating, head reeling; the nervous system houses over a hundred billion neurons, shooting electrical impulses throughout the human body. 

Within Shinya Kogami, every last of those tiny cells seem to scream only one thing, and no matter where he happens to be, despite being within the comfort of his territory, his muscles clench as if ready to battle or flee from imminent danger, and his blood races twice its regular speed, fueling these agitated fibers. His lungs tighten as if he just finished a run.

_”I still have unfinished business! And I won’t stop until it’s settled!”_

_”I won’t stop-!”_

Silvery, glazed eyes fixate on his wall covered in papers, photographs, all pieces of evidence to this case, all fragments of the life he sacrificed for the sake of demon called revenge.

_Shogo Makishima._

The crack within his glass castle, the little reality he surrounded himself with, eventually shattering it into unrecognizable, glittering splinters.

Had it not been for him, things might have been different. He could still see his days as an inspector, with Inspector Ginoza, Enforcer Sasayama, Inspector Aoyanagi, like a rose colored window long since broken. He never knew what awaited him until he sprinted down that narrow allow, the air nearly choking him, finding the remains of his best friend. 

Hollow eyes, mouth gaping open, plastic skin glowing beneath the holographic projection;

the images replayed in his mind every day,

until he couldn’t take it.

_”I won’t stop..._

_...until it’s settled...”_

Burying another cigarette into the warm, silver ashtray, Kogami sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, clutching violently at his hair. With every step towards solving this case, Makishima never fails in throwing another curve ball, leaving the Division at a another dead end. In this game, he manipulates his pieces with such cunning, even a combination of the most brilliant detectives on the force could keep up with his trickery.

Not even him.

With each failure, he can see the white haired man’s sly smirk, looking down on him, following him around, sitting at his side as he attempts to work.

Kogami’s obsession has broken the barriers of his mind and dares to ruin his perception, his focus, by even showing him visions of his foe.

Has he finally lost his mind?

The longer he bores his gaze into that faded photo, the more his head spins, faster, faster, faster. Everything inside him clenches as if holding back a ravenous and bloodthirsty wolf, ready to rampage everything in sight. He holds his breath. He pulls at his hair tighter and tighter in hopes the angry sting of those nerves would snap him back. His eardrums throb. His hands tremble. 

He can already feel the numbers of his Crime Coefficient rising little by little.

It would only be a matter of time before Sibyl deemed him nothing more than a threat. It would only be a matter of time before he too would be eliminated. 

_Not now._

Not with Makishima on the loose. 

Even if it means sacrificing the little bits of sanity he can barely cling to, he would never rest until this score is settled once and for all.

Swallowing hard and licking dry lips, Kogami manages to pull himself to his feet and more or less hobble to the door of his room. The panic refuses to subside, and being in this confined space only increases that tension. 

He just needed something, anything at all, to pull him back into reality. Even if it meant punching him in the face or a bullet to the chest, he is willing to take any measure necessary at this point.

Should that fail, then perhaps numbing it with alcohol would do the trick.

Having gathered enough composure, he at least manages to walk in a straight line through the halls of the facility. At two in the morning, the sane ones of course have already retired to their corridors or returned to their homes. 

But, maybe, if he’s lucky, you’d be here. 

You always seem to function better at the early morning hours anyway. He can still remember even in college you awake at two, three, even four, studying and finishing projects. As an inspector, you function no differently. Though he harasses you about it, you always come out with good results, so who could honestly complain?

Surely, you would be lurking around here somewhere. 

Suddenly, Kogami’s head begins to spin. His hand slams against the cold wall as he tries to regain his sense of balance. The attack must have depleted too much of his energy, so he presses his back to the wall and closes his eyes.

Round...Round...and around...

Soon, his stomach joins in on this dreadful game. 

“Damn,” he grumbles, resting his palm against his forehead, now breaking into a cold sweat. “Guess it’s not bad I didn’t eat...” 

“What’s that about not eating?”

He gasps and jolts at the voice. Cloudy eyes adjust, and he sees your form standing at his side.

Now, the question is are you real or not?

To immediately diminish that question, you playfully tug at his ear.

“Ah-!”

“Shouldn’t the tough guys like you being eating the most?” you say with a chuckle. 

He manages only a short breath of air and a crooked smile. Just a few seconds in your presence, and already the tension throughout his body begins to ease.

As the silence lengthens, the longer he gazes at you, the more you feel uncertain; the red rims around his eyes, the droplets of sweat, the deepening circles beneath his lids. 

Something doesn’t sit right...

“Hey, Kogami,” your volume drops a little as your hand rests against his warm cheek. “You okay?”

He answers with nothing but a small cough and turning his face away. 

You’ve seen this happen before, not long after Ssayama’s death. He has spoken to you of the reoccurring nightmares of that night, and you are more than aware of his reason for chasing down Makishima. 

Though you could spend hours and hours lecturing him on his obvious, self destructive habits, you wonder if it would do any good at this point.

So much is fractured.

So much is broken.

It would be an even worse sin to take what little he has to keep himself sane.

Without another word, you wrap your arms around him and drag your hand up and down his spine. Immediately, he latches his around you and buries his face into your neck. 

Warmth of your skin, the tickle of your hair against his cheeks, the slow beat of your heart against his chest and the echoing vibrations of the pulse through your veins.

This is _real._

In the midst of his mental tempest, this he knows he can reside in.

No matter how much he falls apart, you would be there to pick up what little remained to put him back together.

And this will always be enough to bring him peace.

He takes in a deep inhale, then releases it slowly, as if to breathe out every particular of anxiety trapped within his body. When he muscles finally become slack and his heart beats in time with yours, he lifts his head and looks into your face. Your hand still rests on the back of his neck.

After another sigh, he finally speaks.

“Thank you. I really needed that.”

With a nod, you allow your arms to drop to your side.

“You’re welcome,” you reply. “More than happy to help.”

“I think,” he slides his fingers through his hair and adjusted his collar. “I’ll take you up on that food offer.”

With a soft laugh, you take his hand and guide him to your cubicle. 

“Ramen sound good?”

“Yeah, sounds great.”

“Cigarette?”

“Actually, I think I’m good.”


	36. Candy Kiss

[Kagari x Inspector!Reader]

Seven.

This was drink number seven. You were certain.

When you agreed to dinner with Kagari Shuusei, you thought this meant a nice, quiet meal, maybe a glass of wine or two, a nice dessert. Drinking oneself into unconsciousness. 

Despite the convenience of instant meals, Kagari always preferred going all out and producing concoctions with _actual_ ingredients and _actual_ food. As ashamed as you were to admit it, you greatly favored his way over the System’s way. 

So much flavor. So many interesting textures. Every bite held freshness no synthetic food could obtain, much like the difference between the vivid colors of a real painting in comparison to its pixelated cousin. 

Maybe the Enforcer was onto something...

When he invited you to dinner that night, you thought nothing of it. Here, Inspectors and Enforcers spent time together regularly, mostly in a professional sense. Despite the heavy regulation against relationships with one another, few dared to break the rules and pursue such dangerous affairs. 

From day one, Kagari made no secret of his liking to you. Upon your employment in the MWPSB, he threw you a wink or two, followed by a compliment. The more time you spent together, frequently being partnered with him for cases, the more intense and recurrent his advances came. Though they never crossed the line, they were enough that such a display in public would cause a faint red to rise to your cheeks. 

You had to admit though, he had an irresistible charm; the mischievous glint in his big, brown eyes, the mess of red hair, pinned back with an odd choice of pink barrettes, his broad, dazzling smile.Though he had a habit of making light of many situations, he always knew when to put it aside. As soon as he hit a field of operation, his eyes grew dark, and the grin vanished on the spot. Instincts as sharp as a hound’s were engrained into him. He would never stop until he and his team caught the designated culprit. You held such youthful zeal both on and off duty, and you envied that. It proved annoyingly more and more difficult to turn the man down each time he asked you for a date.

You finally gave in and continued to do so for a month and a half.

As you watched him guzzle down another drink, you wondered whether or not this would be the last. 

It would not have been a terrible loss. Your meetings were usually light-hearted, fun, easy going, and with the stress carried by your job, you appreciated them. But, the more you thought about it, the more you realized you knew very little about the young enforcer. Of course you never engaged in solemn talk, so the past never came into play. Because of this, you always assumed he was looking for only a good time every so often.

Moreover, you cursed the day you felt even a hint of fondness for the lad. 

But, being an Inspector, you were given very little time for fun and games. It was either get serious or go home.

With a long sigh, you dragged your finger round the empty platter, occasionally picking up particles of left over garnishes. Despite the fullness in your belly from the luxurious meal, you couldn’t help but feel a pit residing within your depths. Kagari was one of the few things bringing a smile to your face these days, but you needed someone with a little more backbone to lean on. You couldn’t always have fun like this. Days of anxiety, sadness, some anger were sure to come, and whether or not he was capable for this was a mystery, though you were full of doubt. 

However, you liked him, that you had no doubts about. You loved the butterflies he left in your stomach when he kissed you. You loved his offbeat sense of humor and the laughter trailing at his heels everywhere he went. 

You just needed something more substantial than fun and games.

After pushing your plate aside, you rose from your seat, making your way to the couch upon which he was sprawled. Hands shaking just a bit, he removed a piece of candy from his pocket, meticulously removed the plastic wrapping, and popped the sweet into his mouth, letting it rattled against his teeth. Sensing your presence, his red rimmed eyes shifted towards you.

“Want one?” he practically muffled.

You opened your mouth yet nothing came out. You desperately wanted to get this on the table and off your mind, but as you listened to his occasional groans and hums as he rolled from side to side, you realized such a conversation wouldn’t fall well.

Instead, you shook your head and settled yourself at his side at the rim of the sofa.

“Yeah, sure,” you stretched out your hand accordingly.

Replying with an indistinct murmur, Kagari shifted back to his pocket and placed a round candy, protected by a gold wrapper, glinting beneath the overhead lights. Upon discarding it, you held the amber colored treat between your index and finger, inhaling the aroma, making its entrance into your mouth all the more delightful.

“Hm, butterscotch.”

“Nn.”

The boy returned to his back, a hand draped over his forehead. His cheeks now tinged with a drunken flush, and his eyes glazed over, lost in an intoxicated cloud. For the first time, you actually caught sadness casting over his being. So intense did he seem occupied, that he failed to notice your obvious staring.

The strings of your heart began to pull, and something finally occurred to you, something that should have hit you as soon as you started dating him.

Kagari was an _Enforcer._ That alone meant he no longer had freedom to do as he pleased or chase any dreams he might have held dear as a child. Being labeled as a latent criminal, and for one so young, who knows what horrors he might have seen growing up. 

The more you thought about, the more you realized how much sense it made for him to take on the role of the class clown. Be it to distract him from those memories or because he felt he had nothing to lose, it eased the pain of everything he once lost.

Granting him a small smile, you leaned over Kagari, caging his head between your arms. His body lightly jolted. Then, he eyes shifted to yours. 

“Hey, where’s my smile?” you said with a small laugh. Then, you placed a chaste kiss on his forehead. 

He hummed at the contact and rested your hands on your side.

“Just a little sad,” he replied in almost a whisper.

“What for?” you kissed him again on his smooth cheek.

“Can’t really tell,” he shrugged his shoulders. “Just sad.”

“Hey, that’s alright,” you said, now rubbing the back of your hand along his jaw. “It happens.” 

Closing his eyes, he took a moment to savor that gentle caress. Before allowing another word to pass, he carefully took the back of your neck and pulled you closer, allowing your lips to meet. His mouth was still a little moist and bitter from the alcohol, yet even with no movement of his lips, you could still taste a hint of the candy previously eaten.

Cinnamon- sweet with a hint of spice.

Just like him.

After pulling away, Kagari finally looked up at you with the warmest of smiles, no hint of trickery or humor, just the sincerest of affection and gratitude. 

It was then you made your final decision:

you weren’t giving up this idiot for all the world, and Sibyl could find her own way of dealing with that if she so chose.

Releasing a thin giggle, you said, as coyly as you could,

“What sweet lips you have.”

He raised an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes, immediately diminishing the solemnity of his face.

“Oh, do I now?” he leaned closer and brushed his mouth against yours ever so slightly.

Slowly, you circled a finger around his cheek. 

“Mind if I have another taste?”

He answered your teasing inquiry not with words, but by wrapping his arms tight around you and pulling you in for yet another kiss.


	37. Downtime

[Gu Sung x Prostitute!Reader]

_”Delicious.”_

A coy smile played across your lips as you trailed a finger down the length of his neck. 

“Naughty, are we?”

Enticing eyes of crimson and gold smoldered beneath a lusty gaze. His fingertips rested at the back of your dress, toying with the zipper. 

“Aw, don’t be like that,” he said as he brought his lips to your jawline. “My partner in crime will fuss at me if I’m even a little bit late.”

With a little hum, you trailed soft kisses down his chest. His skin was warm and satiny against your lips, so addicting to kiss. Your zipper came down to the small of your back, allowing it to fall so easily off your shoulders. Prickles formed along your arms as the tip of his tongue grazed along your sternum.

For a client, he sure knew what he was doing.

“How much time do I got?” you inquired, reaching to unfasten his buckle.

Causing you to gasp, his teeth sunk into the tender skin of your breast. He glanced up at you with a sly smirk.

“About an hour and a half,” he said, sliding his fingers into the hemline of your panties. 

He felt your body stiffen, and he raised an eyebrow.

You simply chuckled in turn.

“Don’t worry,” you breathed against his mouth. “That’s more than enough time.”


	38. Visit

[Ginoza x Reader]

“Happy birthday, Nobuchika.” 

“You really didn’t have to do anything for me.” 

You smiled as you pushed your small creation across the table. 

“Of course, I did! It’s your birthday after all.”

He cast his green eyes to the floor, furrowing his brows, black hair shadowing his face.

“Not much worth celebrating,” he muttered more to himself than anything.

Your heart twisted at his words, yet your eyes kept its sparkle, and your smile remained. 

How could you blame him?

He lost _everything_...

What was a small cake worth to him?

“Enjoy your cake, Nobuchika,” you managed to say with a shaky voice. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” 

Tears gathered at the corners of your eye as you clutched your bag and rose from your chair.

“Wait.”

You froze, then turned to find Ginoza standing, hand pressed against the glass. Teeth sunk into his lower lip, the rims of his eyes watered as he urged his body as close as the containment unit would let him. 

“Nobuchika...”

You ghosted your hands over his until you touched the cold, dreadful barrier keeping you apart from your love. 

It took every bit of your strength to keep yourself from crying. 

_Soon,_ you thought.

Soon, you’d be able to hold him in your arms again.

Soon, you’d be able to kiss and hug him.

You just had to wait.

With a deep breath, he forced a tired smile, red rimmed eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Thanks for the cake,” he said. “It’s delicious.” 

You lost yourself within the depths of his gaze, the layers and layers of pain he kept locked within his soul. 

A difficult place to go, but one you would visit as many times as possible. 

“Anytime, Nobuchika. Anytime.”


End file.
